


I’ll crawl home to you

by Toast_bastard



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Consent Issues, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jet (Avatar) Is An Asshole, M/M, Military Families, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Oblivious Sokka (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Smoking, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy, author is projecting onto Sokka, author is recovered from that but wants others to be careful!!!!, it’s never shown, it’s ozai what did you expect, just implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toast_bastard/pseuds/Toast_bastard
Summary: Zuko always slept on his left side, no matter what. For the last 3 years of his life, he had slept on his left side, with his door locked, his light off, but within reach so he could turn it on quickly. But looking at the first thing on uncle Iroh’s list of rules, it seemed he would have to deal with the door just shut instead of locked. His eyes moved down to the next item on the list, scrawled in his uncle's neat, but shaky penmanship.Zuko finally ran away. But he’s not free. And he’ll never have a home, never be safe until his father is six feet underground.(Or, a fic in which Zuko learns that home can be a person, and Sokka learns that it’s okay to be vulnerable, and maybe they fall in love)
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Jet/Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 92
Kudos: 219





	1. One day, I pray I'll be more than my fathers son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is loosely from Work Song by Hozier
> 
> Also a quick disclaimer: I wrote these first couple chapters on google drive before I made my AO3 account, so I copied and pasted from there, which means there may be some formatting errors. Sorry about that, they should be gone by chapter 3.
> 
> Also, TW: panic attacks, implied/referenced child abuse, and smoking, just it case you don’t feel comfortable with that stuff

Zuko always slept on his left side, no matter what. For the last 3 years of his life, he had slept on his left side, with his door locked, his light off, but within reach so he could turn it on quickly. But looking at the first thing on uncle Iroh’s list of rules, it seemed he would have to deal with the door just shut instead of locked. His eyes moved down to the next item on the list, scrawled in his uncle's neat, but shaky penmanship. 

  1. _No drugs or alcohol_



Well that would be fairly easy. Zuko didn’t do drugs, never had. Maybe he had a drink now and again, but he never risked screwing up his head more than it was screwed up already.

  1. _No contacting Ozai, under any circumstances whatsoever_



At his father's name, Zuko felt his heart drop into his stomach, creating a gross, nauseous feeling. He put his hand over his mouth.

“Nephew, are you alright?” Uncle Iroh asked, breaking the previously unbroken silence. Zuko ran his hand over his face and into his hair.

“Yeah, sorry uncle, i just… um… sorry” he mumbled. Iroh put a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, and Zuko jumped. “Sorry” he said again, the sick feeling in his stomach worsening. He didn’t look at Iroh, his head pounding. 

“Zuko, it is okay. You are safe here. Just breathe” Iroh said, his voice steady with only a hint of worry. Unfortunately, Iroh was used to this by now. Zuko was able to get his breathing under control. He looked at iroh next to him at the dining room table. 

“Are you alright, nephew? Was it a panic attack?” Iroh asked, his eyes sincere and worried. Zuko shook his head. 

“No. No, not quite. Thank you, uncle” he exhaled shakily, his eyes drifting back to the list, which only had three items left. Iroh reached for the list.

“We can finish this another time, if you are not feeling up to it” Iroh suggested, but Zuko shook his head

“No, no, i’m okay. We can finish this now” he said, pulling the paper back towards him. He put his eyes to the next items on the list. 

  1. _You will put in effort in school to get good grades_
  2. _No violence or destruction of furniture or property will be tolerated_



That one kinda stung. While Zuko had been living back at home, _not home_ , he reminded himself, _not home_. While he had been living with Ozai, he didn’t have an outlet for… anything, really. So, maybe he had punched his walls or kicked his desk or threw his phone on the floor until the screen shattered, anything to feel nothing, to hurt his father without getting hurt himself. It didn’t work. He left that house with bruised knuckles and two scars, one over his eye and over his heart.

  1. _You must tell me when you leave the house. Curfew is midnight._



The list ended there, and Zuko looked up to see Iroh sipping his tea with a satisfied smile on his face. Zuko cleared his throat to get his uncle's attention. Iroh looked up

“Do you have any questions? About the list?” he asked, lowering his teacup. Zuko shook his head, pushing off against the table to stand up.

“Can I go get my stuff ready for school tomorrow?” Zuko said, pushing his chair in. Iroh nodded, giving Zuko a warm smile. 

* * *

Zuko rummaged through his dresser drawer, looking for a shirt. The clothes looked strange against the brand new Ikea dresser, folded and sparse in numbers. Back at home- _not home anymore_ \- he mentally corrected, his clothes had always been hung up on hangers in his ridiculously large closet. He hadn’t been able to grab everything when he left, which was evident from the half-filled drawer of several t-shirts and a few button downs. 

He held up one of his favorite shirts, which was just a plain maroon t-shirt. He opened the second drawer, which had roughly three pairs of jeans and a pair of sweats. He pulled out a pair of jeans and tossed them onto the chair next to the shirt. Perfect. He would look like a normal teenager. Then he remembered that it was November, so he went to his now normal sized closet and grabbed a hoodie- his favorite one, a plain black pullover that he had owned for years. 

He flopped onto his bed, his _twin- sized bed_ , which was half the size of the one he had back at _Ozai’s house._ He didn’t care at all, really. It was just harder to sleep and it made him feel like a baby

He rolled over to his bedside table where the phone he had gotten at the local Verizon store a few days ago was charging. He had to ditch his phone and credit card- thankfully he thought ahead enough to transfer a good chunk of money to a separate account beforehand- so that Ozai couldn't track him or cut him off. 

The last three weeks had been kind of batshit crazy. 

* * *

Uncle Iroh had offered to drive him to school, well, less _offered_ and more _strongly suggested,_ and Zuko couldn’t refuse him, especially because driving while still (probably) concussed from being slammed against a wall, was generally not advised by physicians. 

He looked at the crinkled piece of paper that had his schedule on it. Physics first, which should be easy considering he had already taken it back at his old boarding school. But he hadn’t really been paying attention in class back then, having other things going on in his life, like a _stab wound in his fucking chest,_ which had been a gift from Azula. 

“Zuko, we’re here!” Uncle Iroh said, and Zuko forced a smile, knowing his uncle was forcing the excitement in his voice just as much. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped out of his uncle’s Jeep. He thanked him before closing the door, and he didn’t turn around, walking towards the entrance of the school, his back already aching.

The school was nothing like his old schools. It was clearly built maybe twenty years ago, at most. Students filed in, talking and laughing with their friends, and Zuko felt a pang in his chest, which might be his months-old stab wound, or, more likely, anxiety. He shuffled towards the door, following the crowd, and just like that he was just another student. 

Eventually, he found his physics classroom. It was a large room with bright fluorescent ceiling lights and linoleum floors, and it looked like Zuko was the first one there. 

“Zuko Hara?” a woman's voice asked from behind him, and he jumped, spinning around to see who spoke. His hand curled into a fist instinctively. The voice belonged to a woman in her 30’s, dark hair in a shoulder length cut, and thick wireframe glasses. She smiled warmly, and Zuko felt a little bit at home, but he couldn’t place why. He shook the feeling off.

“Hi. Um, I’m Zuko, your new student?” he said, and he really didn’t intend for it to come out as a question, but it did. She started walking towards the large metal desk at the back of the room and motioned for him to follow with the same warm smile.

“I’m Ms. Zeng. It’s lovely to meet you,” she said as she walked “It looks like you’re the first one here, so why don’t I give you a textbook while we get the chance, okay?” she said, opening a cabinet by the wall and taking out a textbook from the stack of books. Zuko didn’t say anything, just nodded. She slid the textbook to him across the desk, where they were standing, and he flipped it open.

He couldn’t help but read the names on the inside cover. _Kayla Johnson, 1990, Lauren Gonzales, 05-_

“Zuko, what’s the book number?” Ms. Zeng asked, and Zuko looked to the top right corner of the page. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, it’s 11-46” he said, and waited awkwardly while she typed it up on her spreadsheet. She looked back towards him

“You can just write your name in there, and then year, and then you can have a seat right up front, if that works for you?” she said, not looking away from her laptop. Zuko wrote his name in, and then the year. It wasn’t his real last name, because both him and Iroh agreed that would be too risky, so he was registered in school under his mother's maiden name. He shut the textbook, and Ms. Zeng looked up at the soft _thud_ of the book closing. She smiled at him warmly again, and he was starting to feel like she was pitying him. 

“Where do I sit?” he asked, feeling stupid, standing there with a textbook in his arms, the silence amplified by the large room with the fluorescent lights and linoleum tiles. 

“Right up front, on the right there,” she pointed to the first lab table and the stool on the right. He silently thanked whatever stupid god was up there that his half-blind, half-deaf ass didn’t have to sit in the back, and sat in the seat. “Your deskmate should be here soon, he’s usually here early,” Ms. Zeng said. Zuko nodded, letting the silence consume the room entirely.

The silence didn’t last long, and it was broken by a lanky, tanned boy coming in through the door, laughing with a girl beside him, both of them drinking iced coffees. Zuko rolled his eyes as the guy kissed the girl on the forehead. To his horror, the iced coffee-drinking lanky boy made his way over to Zuko’s lab bench, stopping only briefly when he saw Zuko.

“Oh, hey! You must be new, I’m Sokka.” he smelled faintly of cigarette smoke up close, and his nose glinted with a silver ring on his nostril. He was wearing a sweatshirt that had _‘U.S. Army’_ in faded lettering across the chest. 

“Hi. I’m Zuko” Zuko said with a nod. His new deskmate, Sokka, sat down on the stool to the left. He sipped his iced coffee, and with the side of his head now facing him, Zuko was able to see the various ear piercings he had, and that he had a _nice_ jawline. He looked away. 

“So, Zuko, when'd you move here?” Sokka asked, putting his drink down on the lab bench. Zuko had been dreading this type of conversation, but he answered anyway.

“Well, actually, I just lived a few towns over. I just had to move in with my uncle for… personal reasons” He said, not quite looking at Sokka’s face, rather his hands, his fingers long and nimble, a faint scar across his knuckles and a few ink stains. Why on earth did Zuko find that attractive? He had to stop. Thankfully, Sokka didn't pry the issue further. 

“Oh, cool. Yeah, I've moved around a lot, dad’s in the army, so,” he gestured to his sweatshirt, as if that answered everything. More students started to come into the room, most of them talking. 

“Where are you originally from?” Zuko asked, and immediately, he regretted it as soon as he left. Sokka had definitely been asked that a lot, judging by his expression. But he didn't get mad at Zuko, like he had been expecting. 

“Alaska, actually. We moved away when I was ten” he said, and Zuko nodded. Even if this guy was a little bit annoying, he was probably going to sit here for the rest of the year, and he should probably make friends, _and try to avoid falling in love_ , his brain added, not so helpfully. He attempted to keep the conversation going. 

“I moved around a lot, too, actually. I was born in California” he said, and Sokka took another sip of his iced coffee. 

“That’s cool, actually. I’ve never been there.” he said, and before Zuko could respond, Ms. Zeng clapped her hands together to get everyone's attention, and the class started. 

* * *

The rest of the day went by in a blur. By the end, Zuko had met probably five people, some friendlier than others, and his back hurt from carrying four textbooks, which should be illegal in some way. He had the last period of the day free, and since he had no way of getting to Iroh’s house- _home,_ he reminded himself, even though the word home felt like a shirt that was too big, he sat in the student commons scrolling through Instagram. 

“Zuko? Is that you?” a slightly familiar voice spoke out of nowhere, and Zuko felt the blood drain from his face, because _nobody_ who already knew him was someone he wanted to run into. Slowly, he turned his head in the direction of the voice.

“Aang?” he said, surprise taking over his fear. The kid, who wasn’t really a kid anymore, he supposed, nodded vigorously and slid over on the bench next to Zuko. 

Four years ago, he had been at Barton’s Academy for Boys, he had met an energetic eleven-year-old boy who had been sent there because his foster parents didn’t want to deal with his issues. What his issues were, Zuko never found out, because Aang had been moved to a new placement pretty quickly after they met. The kid before him now was certainly older, short dark hair kept under a beanie and a yellow sweatshirt that said something that Zuko couldn’t make out through the wrinkles caused by Aang's posture. Despite being a full teenager now, he still bounced excitedly.

“So what are you doing here? Why are you in public school- I mean no offence, but your family is _loaded_ , so why are you, like, here? And are you staying here long and-” Aang's voice caught as he glanced to Zuko’s left eye, his brown-gray eyes tracing the edges of his scar. Zuko sighed, knowing Aang meant well. He cleared his throat.

“I left my dad’s- I left Ozai’s, like three weeks ago. I’m living with Iroh now, and if all goes well, I’m staying here to graduate” he said, and as soon as the last word left his mouth, Aang wrapped him in a tight hug, squeezing him tighly. 

“Aang, that’s enough” he said, a small laugh escaping his lips. Aang pulled away, and Zuko could tell he wanted to know more, but, thankfully, he didn’t ask any more questions, because the other obvious question for someone who hadn’t seen him in over four years was one he wasn’t ready to answer. Aang stood up, brushing his pants off, grinning ear to ear.

“I actually was coming back from the bathroom, so I should really get back to class. Bye Zuko!” Aang hurried off, a bounce in his step as he went.

It was good to see a familiar face. 

* * *

The rest of the week, Zuko drove himself to school, since Uncle Iroh didn’t need his Jeep. He claimed he liked walking the one block to his tea shop every morning, Zuko half-heartedly believed him.

On his first Friday at his new school, Sokka asked for his number, just to “keep in touch”. Despite knowing Sokka was very clearly in a relationship, he got butterflies in his stomach, especially after seeing the homemade bracelet he wore that was blue, purple and pink. _But he had a girlfriend,_ Zuko reminded himself. Still, at least he had a new friend, if nothing else. 

The second monday at his new school, Aang found him at lunch and dragged him over to his lunch table, where, to his complete surprise, saw Sokka sitting, laughing at something. Aang cleared his throat dramatically, and the lunch table turned to him, their full undivided attention on Zuko and Aang. 

“Everyone, this is-” he was interrupted by Sokka, who had just swallowed a bite of his food.

“Zuko! Hey man!” he said, and Aang looked at Sokka, then to Zuko, then back at Sokka again.

“You guys know each other?” he said, sitting down and patting the seat beside him for Zuko to sit.

“Yeah, we have physics class together” Sokka said, this time not bothering to swallow his food before speaking. Aang smiled, pointing to the girl to his right.

“Okay, since you already know Sokka, this is Toph, she’s my grade” at her name, Toph looked up, thick bangs covering her eyes. She nodded, not looking at him.

“‘Sup. I’m Toph. I’m blind, by the way” she said, her voice carrying the tired tone of someone who had said those words a thousand times. Zuko perked up at her words, though.

“Oh, actually I'm almost completely blind in one eye, so I guess we have something in common,” he said with a laugh, and Toph turned her head to the direction of his voice and gave him a toothy grin. Aang pointed to Sokka’s girlfriend, who was saying something to Sokka.

“That’s Suki” he said, and she waved, her multiple gold rings twinkling. “You already know Sokka-” Sokka stood up and slipped something into his back pocket, walking out of the cafeteria “-who just left to go smoke, despite almost all of us telling him to stop” Aang finished, sounding exasperated. Suki spoke

“Actually he’s doing really good, down to once or twice a day” she said defensively, and Aang raised his eyebrows 

“Okay, that’s actually good! Anyways, last, but most certainly not least,” he did a dramatic drumroll on the lunch table, “Katara! She’s the best!” he said, and Zuko laughed, seeing the twinkle in Aang's eyes. The kid totally had a crush on her. Katara looked up from her book and waved. She had Sokka’s coloring and features- they had to be siblings.

“Hi. I’m Katara. Sokka’s my brother.” her voice, although hidden well behind her bright smile, was cold and unwelcoming. Zuko recognized the way she spoke, forced warmth and kindness. Zuko had a feeling she might know who his father was, and if that was the case, he didn’t blame her for her for her cold welcome. 

The rest of lunch, however, went off without any issues. After what seemed like no time, he was smiling and talking with the group like they were all friends.

He walked by himself to english, but his feet felt lighter. He couldn’t exactly say he had friends, no, he hadn't earned that right yet, but he had people. People he could talk to and eat lunch with, and that was more than he had expected to get. It felt really dumb, but he couldn’t wait to tell Uncle Iroh all about it. He would be so proud. 

It said a lot that his mood only dampened slightly when he was assigned an essay in english class. He was even excited to do it, which is not something he could say often. One more class, then he could go home. 

_Home. Uncle Iroh’s house was home_ , he thought to himself as he started the car. He had a home now. 

He should have known it wouldn’t last forever. It didn’t even last a month. 

* * *

He shouldn’t have been so quick to get comfortable, though. He should have known better. As he entered the house, his arm hairs stood on end. He took off his shoes, and the lightness he had felt earlier completely vanished when he looked down. There, right by the door was a pair of red Doc Martens. Azula’s shoes. His heart suddenly weighed a hundred pounds in his chest. 

Zuko went completely still, listening for her voice. And he heard it, and god, he wished he didn’t. His heart dropped into his stomach as he threw his backpack on the ground and ran to the living room, fight or flight instincts fully taking over his body. He stopped in the doorway. The doorway of Uncle Iroh’s house. It was just Uncle Iroh’s house now. 

This wasn’t home anymore. Not with her here. 

And there she was. Azula, with her hair in the perfect bun, but it wasn’t perfect this time. There were strands falling loose, and the bun was falling out, like she had been running-

_Oh._

He had thought she was safe, with her being the favorite, the prodigy, the golden child. He told himself that, after tossing and turning in his new twin bed, feeling a pull in his chest, like his body was trying to pull him back there to save her. 

He should have listened to himself. 

She looked so small and fragile, sitting on Uncle’s floor, a cup of steaming tea in her hands, completely untouched. Uncle Iroh sat quietly on the other side of the table. Her shoulders were trembling. He finally found it in his lungs to push out a word, to say something, reach out to his dissolving sister. 

He was too blinded by his worry, too overtaken with the guilt of leaving her back _there_ to see that it was all an act. It always was with her. 

“Azula?” he choked, and she turned to look at him, and it was worse than he thought it would be, but he didn’t move a muscle. 

Her face was stained with black-tinted tears from her mascara, and she was wearing what looked like one of Mai’s shirts, which looked like it was swallowing her whole. She looked like she had seen a ghost, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse like she had screamed for hours. 

“Hey Zuzu.” her voice sounded worn-out, and her words trembled. Zuko slowly walked over to the table, but not too close, not close enough for her to grab him and yank him down to her level again. Uncle Iroh, who hadn’t said a word the entire time, spoke, his words carefully chosen and his voice mediating and calm as it could be.

“Zuko, Azula ran to me today. I have already checked, she has no phone, no knife, nothing that can be used to hurt you,” Azula’s lip twitched into a half-snarl, like a dog ready to bark. He sat down on the floor next to Iroh, careful to never put his back to her. You _never_ let your guard down around Azula, even if she was sobbing on your uncles living room floor. 

As he met her eyes fully, something deep inside him told him to run, but he gripped the carpet tightly to anchor himself. A broken grin spread across Azula's face, not reaching her eyes. It never did. 

And he was ten again, sitting on the floor of a funeral home, his grandfather in a coffin and his mother, as far as he knew, was _gone_. 

When he was thirteen, he found out something he wasn't supposed to. That his mother was poison, and that she, just like the poison in his grandfather's wine glass, had to dissolve. That she wasn't dead, but she was as good as gone. 

Just like their mother, Azula was poisonous. Her words wrapped around you and choked you until you started speaking them back to her. But maybe this time he wouldn’t swallow her poison whole. Maybe this time he was immune. 

“What are you doing here, Azula?” he said, not bothering to cover his voice in honey. She had never done him that favor. Azula’s smile died, her lips settling in a pout. 

“Don’t you see, Zuzu? Can’t you _tell?_ ” she broke back into a sickening grin, “I’m here to bring you _back.”_

Zuko’s blood turned to ice. He should have known he wasn’t safe here. It was too obvious, living with his uncle. She had succeeded, her venom was wrapped around his neck like a snake, and he couldn’t breathe, and he was choking, and his face was probably turning blue and he was-

“Zuko,” Iroh said, pulling Zuko out of his head, putting a hand on his shoulder. Zuko looked down. He had never loosened his grip on the carpet, and his knuckles were white. His words choked him on their way up, and he tasted bile in his throat.

“How much time do I have, how-how much time before he finds me?” he whispered, his vocal chords refusing to work. Azula almost looked sympathetic, but it was ruined by the fiery amusement in her eyes. 

“Oh, I would leave right away. He’s not gonna come for you tonight, but as soon as he gets the police with him, he’s coming straight here” she said, picking at a non-existent flaw on her pristine acrylic nails. 

Zuko stood up, and uncle Iroh was saying something to him, but he didn’t try to hear it. He ran to his room and yanked his duffel bag out of his- _not his anymore, this is not your home, it never was_ \- uncle Iroh's closet. 

He really shouldn’t have been so quick to call this place home. Home wasn’t something that he got, and it was never something he would have as long as his father was still alive. 

He grabbed as many of his things as he could, his head pounding with each item he threw into the duffle bag. His vision blurred, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground,

And he was shaking, and he couldn’t _breathe, fuck, he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe and he had no home anymore and he had no home he had no home no home-_

“Zuko” a voice said, and Zuko looked up through tear filled eyes, to see uncle Iroh holding out a piece of paper to him. He took in his shaking hands, his breath coming into his lungs in short, sharp gasps. Uncle Iroh sat down on his bed, rubbing his back, telling him to breathe until the room stopped spinning in circles and the paper in his hands stopped shaking, and the tears on his face dried down stiff. He looked at the paper, waiting for the words to stop swirling on the page. It was an address. And a name. 

_Boys Freedom Home_ , the words read in uncle Iroh’s shaky but neat handwriting. He looked up at his uncle, feeling like a child. A small, terrified child, the room entirely too big for him, too open. Zuko didn’t have to speak, didn’t have to ask. 

“I had a feeling this might happen,” Iroh said calmly, and wiped his eyes “So I found a place that can take you. For a little while. You can go to school still. It’s not too far, but all the boys there are in similar situations. You’ll be safe there, I promise” Iroh folded his hands, and the words seemed to take a while to hit Zuko. He took a shaky breath and folded the note up and shoved it into his pocket. He stood up, his legs shaking.

“Thank you, uncle. I- I don’t know how to-” his voice broke, and he looked away “I don’t know how to repay you” he whispered, not trusting his voice. His uncle looked back at him, his eyes shining

“Zuko, all you have to do is find your path. Can you do that, nephew? I need you to make it out of this family.” Iroh said, and even though Zuko had no way to keep that promise, he nodded. 

“I promise” he said softly, and Uncle Iroh stood up and gave him a tight hug, and Zuko did all he could to keep from breaking down again. 

He zipped up his duffle bag, alone in Uncle Iroh’s guest room, the emptiness fighting him for dominance and winning. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and picked up the black duffle bag, leaving the room for probably the last time.

He left the door unlocked. Just Like Iroh had asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank ya'll so much for reading, it means a lot to me that literally anyone would read my work
> 
> the next chapter should be up in roughly a week- maybe sooner since it’s already written- i'm alternating between Zuko and Sokka's narration each chapter, just to avoid any confusion, zuko is odd chapters and Sokka is even.
> 
> a HUGE thank you to my best friend, @queenofconstellations, who was there when this story was just a semi-coherent notes-app rambling and a few excessively long text. Thank you for encouraging me to do this
> 
> anyways, enough sap, let me know what you think and kudos/comments are much appreciated
> 
> thanks again for reading!!!
> 
> Note from December 1st: writing this chapter fucked up my entire Spotify wrapped hope y’all like it


	2. She feels no saftey in my arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m late, Sokka.” she said, her eyes filled with tears. Sokks swallowed. The pit in his stomach was the size of a boulder. 
> 
> “How late?” he whispered, not daring to raise the volume of his voice, even though they were alone. Suki’s living room felt like it was made of glass, like if he spoke too loud everything might break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: more smoking, mention of vomiting, discussion of abortion/abortion
> 
> Also in general this chapter is kinda heavy, I apologize. There’s gonna be some heavy moments in this fic.
> 
> I promise once we get through this chapter there will be more zuko/Sokka interactions, okay? just one more chapter until the true yearning begins

Sokka walked into physics class sipping his ice coffee. Suki was out today, she had texted him to let him know she wasn’t feeling well, and even though she said she would be okay, his chest ached with worry every time someone got sick. At least since Yue. He felt his eyes sting. _Really? Just her name?_ He chided himself mentally. 

He sat down next to Zuko, who, if he was being honest, looked like shit. His long hair was tangled and greasy and he had deep bags under his eyes. Or, eye. He cleared his throat

“You doing okay, man?” he asked gently, not wanting to piss Zuko off. If he had learned anything about his new deskmate in the first week, it was that he was really easy to piss off. He didn’t blame him, though, with all he’d been though. Sokka didn’t know what, exactly, he had been through, but he could tell it had been a lot. 

Zuko grunted in response to Sokka’s inquiry, and Sokka took that as an answer. He pulled out his phone to check to see if Suki had texted him, but there was nothing. Class started and ended, and his phone remained silent, and Zuko remained silent, so it only felt right for Sokka to be silent for most of the time, too. 

At the end of class, Zuko cleared his throat and Sokka turned to look at him. Zuko glanced around before speaking

“I had to get a new phone, can I get your number again? Just so you can reach me?” he asked, holding out his phone, which was open to the contacts page. Sokka was a little taken aback, but he nodded and took the phone from the other boys hands, their fingers brushing briefly. Sokka felt a tingle down his spine, and he immediately felt guilty. He was with Suki, what was wrong with him? 

“Here you go. You know…” he trailed off, not wanting to overstep boundaries. Zuko raised an eyebrow. Well, technically Zuko only had one eyebrow, so he had no idea if he was actually just raising both. He handed the phone back.

“What?” Zuko asked, not sounding annoyed, exactly, but Sokka could already see his walls going up.

“You can always talk to me, if you need anything. I’m not super great at advice, but I consider myself a pretty good listener” he said with what he tried to make a warm smile. Zuko nodded.

“I appreciate the offer. I really do.” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. The bell rang, and Sokka sighed, grabbing his backpack and heading out the classroom door. Zuko got lost in the crowd of students quickly, and Sokka headed outside. Yes, he had a class. But that class was art, and he could feel himself getting antsy already. He needed a smoke. He headed to the corner across the street from the school, pulling out a cigarette as he walked. Just one. He lit it as he rounded the corner, and took a few drags, feeling himself relax. By the time he finished, he was already five minutes late. And no text from Suki. 

She was fine. He was fine. Everyone and everything was fine. His art teacher gave him nothing but a disapproving look when he walked in. He sat down and pulled out his sketchbook, following along with the rest of class. 

* * *

He had two more classes until lunch. On his way to his third class, he bumped into Katara in the hallway.

“You reek. Did you just smoke?” she wrinkled her nose, clearly pissed at him. He ran his hand over his face. 

“Like, an hour ago” he snapped, then immediately felt bad. “Sorry. I’m just worried about Suki. She’s home sick” he said, not looking at Katara. She squeezed his elbow. 

“It’s okay. Sorry, I didn’t realize. But she’ll be okay, I promise” she said softly, and somehow, that helped.

By the time lunch rolled around, he was feeling better. Suki had sent him a few TikToks, so he knew she was at least doing okay. He noticed Zuko was missing from the lunch table, and he tried really hard to not have any feelings about that. _Tried_ was the key word there. 

He sat down next to Toph, who was shoveling a peanut butter sandwich into her mouth at an alarming speed. He laughed, pulling out his own lunch.

“What?” she asked, her voice muffled by her mouth full of sandwich.

“Are you gonna come up for air?” he said, snickering. She punched him in the arm as Aang and Katara sat down together. 

“Suki not here?” Aang asked, and Katara kicked his leg under the table, which Sokka knew because Aang yelped. Sokka shook his head, swallowing his mouthful.

“No, she’s sick. Stomach thing. Said it just came out of nowhere.” he responded, which wasn’t exactly true. Suki had been feeling sick on and off for about a month now. Toph raised her eyebrows.

“You didn’t knock her up, did you snoozles?” she asked bluntly, and everyone at the table froze. Sokka laughed, but a pit was forming in his stomach.  
“No! That’s- that’s not possible.” he said, swallowing hard. Katara raised an eyebrow at him. She looked pissed. Aang was beet red and picking at his tofu, and Toph was acting if nothing had happened. A few awkward seconds passed, and then the silence broke when Toph told a joke and they all laughed. But Toph’s comment was still stuck in his head.

* * *

It was the last class of the day when he got a text from Suki, the first real text. He slipped out his phone and glanced at it under his desk.

**_Suki_** _: can u come over after school?_ He read the text and the pit that had been growing in his stomach since lunch felt heavier. He didn’t have time to reply because his spanish teacher turned back around, but he slipped his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants and pretended to pay attention.

Class ended after what seemed like three hours, and Sokka didn’t absorb a single piece of information. He hurried out the door, making his way to his truck, heart pounding. The pit in his stomach felt heavier than ever before. When he got to his truck, Katara was already there, leaning against the door. He unlocked the car without saying a word. 

“Sokka you gotta be honest with me. Did you get Suki pregnant?” she asked, the motherly tone in her voice coming out. Sokka put his head against the steering wheel, his eyes threatening to tear up. He shook his head, looking at Katara.

“I’m… 95% sure that I didn’t. I mean, she’s on the pill. It should be impossible, right?” He said as he started the truck. Katara raised her eyebrows, saying nothing. He pulled out of his parking space and into the line of cars waiting to leave the parking lot.

“You did use a condom-” Katara started to ask, but Sokka cut her off. 

“Oh my god, Katara! I don’t want to talk about this with you! This is none of your business! God!” He yelled, waving his hands as he spoke. He didn’t care how whiny his voice sounded. He pressed his food down on the gas pedal a little more aggressively than needed. 

He dropped Katara off at home and smoked a quick cigarette on the way to Suki’s house. He had previously been down to just one or two a day, but at this point he had surpassed three. Thank god he still had the tolerance. He arrived at Suki’s house right as he finished the cigarette, hastily putting it out on the ground before going in. Her mom was away on a business trip. He jumped out of the car, not even wasting a second. Suki opened the door before he even knocked and pulled him into the house. She was pale and shaky as she led him to the couch. 

“Suki? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice cracking. Suki leaned back against the couch, taking a breath before looking at him.

“I’m late, Sokka.” she said, her eyes filled with tears. Sokks swallowed. The pit in his stomach was the size of a boulder. 

“How late?” he whispered, not daring to raise the volume of his voice, even though they were alone. Suki’s living room felt like it was made of glass, like if he spoke too loud everything might break. Suki bit her lip.

“I-I think a month?” she whispered back, “and I-I’ve been nauseous and-” he cupped her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead, stopping her mid-ramble. 

“Do you… do you want to go get a test?” he asked gently, and Suki said nothing, but nodded. She pressed a hand to her mouth

“Excuse me” she muttered and ran to the bathroom. Sokka ran after her.

“Suki?” he called before entering the bathroom, where Suki was hunched over the toilet bowl. He knelt beside her and held her hair up as she retched into the toilet. Sokka wrinkled his nose at the sound. This wasn't good. 

Eventually, Suki stopped throwing up, and Sokka handed her a paper towel to wipe her mouth with. She leaned into his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her, rubbing circles on her back. When she regained her composure she pulled away from him sharply, leaving his hand hovering in the air before he quickly dropped it to his side. 

“If this test is positive, i’m gonna punch you in the fucking face” she said, wiping the eyeliner smudges from under her eyes. Sokka laughed dryly, and he knew she wasn’t lying. And that was his Suki, and that’s why he loved her. That's why he _had_ loved her. 

* * *

They sat in the CVS parking lot in silence. Sokka’s hand was on Suki’s thigh and he was drumming his fingers nervously. Suki moved his hand to the center console.

“Sokka, if you need a smoke, go smoke.” She said finally, a hint of exasperation. He had been antsy since another man had started smoking on the bench outside the building. He sighed, reaching across her into his glove compartment to grab his stuff, his hands trembling slightly. He stepped out of the car.

Sokka had been quitting, but he was starting to think if he really wanted to _actually_ quit, he would have to go cold turkey, which would mean withdrawals, which he wasn’t ready to face yet, if he was honest. 

He stood next to the bench, and his hands shook as he flicked the lighter. After a few tries, he finally got the cigarette lit, letting the buzz hit him full on. Suki came out of the car, locking it behind her as Sokka exhaled the smoke. She tossed him his keys, which he caught with both hands, leaving his cigarette dangling in his mouth, fully aware of how fucking stupid he looked. He took another drag, this time exhaling sideways so he didn’t blow smoke in her face like an asshole. She waited for him, but he could see her patience wearing thin for his habit. He took one last inhale, and she opened her mouth to speak right as he dropped the butt of the cigarette in the ashtray on top of the trashcan. 

“I think I’m ready,” Suki said, taking his empty hand in hers. He nodded, exhaling the last bit of smoke with a quick cough. My god, they were the ultimate teenage disappointments, standing outside the town CVS with their piercings and cigarettes, going in to buy a pregnancy test that would very likely be positive, just a few hours after school had ended.

They went in and out as quickly as possible. Suki bought one box, the second cheapest one possible, telling Sokka it didn’t matter, that they all worked the same. He briefly wondered how she knew that. 

He didn’t mean to, but as he was driving back to Suki’s house, his mind wandered to Zuko. He wondered what was going on with him- he looked like shit, for one, and, for another thing, he was even more quiet. He had seen him talk to Ms. Sato before class yesterday, and she had seemed concerned. It wasn’t any of Sokka’s business, but he was honest enough to admit he was a nosy person.

He thought about the spark he had felt when their hands had touched, and how it felt new and exciting, but also terrifying. He hadn’t had feelings for a guy in a little while. 

_Oh shit, feelings?_ He caught himself. He didn’t have _feelings_ for Zuko, that was ridiculous. He was with Suki, and he had been for a year, and Suki had always been familiar and safe. 

Suki was home to him just as much as his own house was. At least, she was supposed to be.

He felt awful for even thinking he had feelings for Zuko, and he shoved that thought deep in the back of his mind where he kept other embarrassing shit, like when Katara walked in on him and Suki, mid- bra removal, and had screamed for an hour and a half afterwards. That’s where it belonged, with the other things that should never be mentioned again. 

* * *

They arrived back at her house and headed up to the bathroom, Sokka waiting as she peed on the plastic stick. He quickly texted Katara to let her know he was probably staying another hour, and as he hit send, he heard the toilet flush. _Here we go,_ he thought. He put his phone back in his pocket and flopped down on Suki’s bean bag chair, his eyes scanning the room. He spotted his old hockey sweatshirt in the corner of her room, and a small chuckle escaped his lips. He didn’t know how she managed to steal that. 

Suki appeared in her bedroom doorway, her sweatshirt bunched up in her left hand, pregnancy test in her right. She set it down on her desk, next to the framed picture of her with her soccer team, grinning brightly with arms around her teammates. The Suki he fell in love with. That he was _still_ in love with, he reminded himself, but it felt suspiciously the same as telling himself he had no feelings for Zuko.

“We wait five minuets. For the test” she said, sitting down on the edge of her bed. Sokka nodded, then pointed to his sweatshirt in the corner

“Could I have that sweatshirt back?” his voice wavered as he spoke, “It’s just- it’s from home” he said, his voice giving out on the last syllable. Suki nodded and wordlessly tossed him his sweatshirt. The odd tension in the room made the air feel thick and Sokka's body feel too big.

The whole room felt too small for the both of them, squeezing the air out of his lungs and building pressure in his skull, like he was underground. He inhaled, but it was more of a ragged gasp. Suki looked over at him, her chest rapidly rising and falling at the same tempo as his. 

He got up from the beanbag and sat down next to her on the bed, and she buried her face in his chest, where his heart was currently threatening to burst through his rib cage. He rubbed her back, but it didn't seem to calm her. Nothing he did was making her feel better. 

The timer went off, and maybe his heart did burst through his chest. Suki stood up, her legs shaking. But he didn’t stand up with her, his bones anchoring him to her twin bed like they were made of lead. She grabbed the test and turned back towards him, holding it out to him like it would bite her.

“Can you read it?” she whispered, her lip quivering. He took it from her hand and flipped it over to read it. One line meant negative, and two meant positive, according to this piece of plastic. He looked over to the small square which would tell them how fucked they were. 

_Two lines_. _Positive._

He laughed, but it sounded more like a choke when it came out of his mouth. He shook his head, looking at Suki. 

“You’re pregnant” he choked out. She snached the plastic stick out of his hands and closely inspected it, as if she was looking for a fault or something to make his words untrue. She didn’t find one, of course.

“Well, fuck” she said, and Sokka couldn’t agree more. “I think I know this happened” she said, and Sokka looked at her expectantly

“I do too. I didn’t pull out” he said, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. Suki laughed lightly and shook her head

“Sokka, I told you it was okay, remember? I’m on the pill. I didn’t think this could happen but- but I was taking this herbal supplement to help me sleep, and I googled it, and it’s on the list of things you, like, really shouldn’t take on the pill” she said defeatedly. Sokka pressed a kiss to her temple, which felt like putting a bandaid on a stab wound. 

“Still, I'm equally at fault. I’m the one with the baby juice” said in response. Suki’s face wrinkled in disgust.

“Please never say that again,” she said with a laugh, and Sokka laughed too. The gravity of the situation lifted, even if only for a second. He flopped backwards onto her bed, pulling his hair out of it’s ponytail. Suki flopped next to him, looking at him, and it felt weird, like this was the first time he had laid in her bed. 

He looked into her eyes, and he just saw eyes. He didn’t see Suki’s eyes. They could have been anyone’s eyes. And that was terrifying to him, because Suki was home to him, and home was supposed to be familiar and recognizable. 

“What do you want to do?” she whispered, braiding a strand of his hair. He looked towards her, the question catching him off-guard.

“It’s really not my decision, Suki. It’s your body” he said, and it was true. He could choose to not be a part of this, and Suki couldn’t. She rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I appreciate your feminism, dickhead, but I can’t do this alone. This clump of cells if half yours, and i’m asking if you want it” she said, eyebrows raised in anticipation. Sokka stared blankly at her, then cleared his throat

“I- I mean i want kids, but-but not now. Not for like, another ten years. And… and we can’t do this right now, can we? I mean it would just completely change our lives” he said, his words hanging in the silence between them. Suki brushed his hair away from his face, her fingers trembling. 

“I don’t think I want to keep it. But I don’t want to make a decision tonight,” she paused, cupping his face, “and I don't think you should either, okay? Neither of us are thinking straight” she sat up, and he did too. He glanced at the clock.

_4:36_

He had been here for an hour and a half at least. All this had happened in an hour and a half. _Holy shit_. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“I… I get paid on Saturday” he said, suddenly feeling a surge of responsibility. Suki’s eyes narrowed

“Sokka, I’m not letting you pay for this. Come on” she said, crossing her arms. Sokka didn’t say anything, standing up.

“Yes I am. At least let me do this. Please.” he said, and Suki, knowing she couldn’t win his stubborn ass over, nodded. 

“Fine. I’ll need someone to drive me anyways” she looked at the floor, swinging her feet back and forth.

“So, you made a decision?” he asked, trying to sound not as overwhelmed as he felt, but his voice cracked. Suki shook her head. 

“I’m gonna sleep on it, and you should too, okay?” she got up off the bed and kissed his cheek. It felt cold and sisterly, like when Katara did it, and the feeling gave him an awful, guilty feeling in his stomach. He nodded

“I should probably get home,” he said softly, and Suki walked towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was barely taller than her, and although it used to feel like they fit perfectly, like puzzle pieces, now it felt like they were too similar in every way. He put his arms gently around her waist, and the spark he felt when his hand had touched Zuko's wasn't there at all. It hadn't been for a while. She leaned into him further, her eyes asking silently if she could, and he said yes without a single word. The space between them closed, her lips gentle on his, and it _hurt._

It hurt that they were still so physically in sync, that he still knew exactly which way to lean and she still knew the exact angle to tilt her head, how their nose rings mirrored each other, how he was perfectly a few inches taller and how his hands fit her waist. It hurt because he felt _nothing_ when he kissed her, and when he pulled away, her face told him that she, too, didn't feel anything anymore. At least, not from his touch.

As he walked out the door, something deep in his gut sank with dread, or maybe guilt, and he didn't know why. The heavy feeling only got worse as he got into his truck, and he felt like the feeling would swallow him whole, but he didn't know _why_ , and he didn't know how to make it stop, and it was building in his chest with every stoplight, every intersection, the heaviness that would swallow him got bigger. 

When he got to his house, the heaviness centered itself into the center of his gut, and he realized that it was, in fact, dread, because now he had to tell Katara. 

* * *

When Sokka walked through the front door, he was greeted by Katara, arms crossed and an expression of pure disappointment on her face. He pushed past her and walked straight to his room, not trusting himself to be able to lie to her at the moment. Judging by the sound of footsteps in quick succession to his, she wasn’t gonna let him avoid this. He tossed his backpack on the ground, fully aware of her presence in his doorway. Finally, he turned around, praying that the answer to her question wasn’t already on his face.

“So? What happened?” she demanded, and Sokka rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Katara was impossible to lie to. 

“Shut the door” he muttered, and Katara did, softly shutting the door and sitting on his bed, her eyebrows raised in anticipation. He sat down next to her, but didn’t look her in the eyes. He couldn’t

“Sokka-” she started, but he cut her off.

“She’s pregnant. Suki’s pregnant.” he said, and the words felt heavy on his tongue and seemed to stay in the air too long. He looked at Katara and braced himself for impact.

She slapped him across the face, not hard enough to really hurt him, but hard enough to surprise him. He rubbed his cheek, waiting for her to say something. It didn’t take her long to tell him what she thought.

“First of all, you’re so fucking stupid,” she said, her eyes narrowing into a glare. He deserved that one for sure. “Secondly, what are you guys going to do? You can’t have a kid, you know that, right Sokka? I mean if she chooses to keep it you better not fucking leave her or-” he held his hand up, signaling to Katara to stop talking. 

“I know it was stupid, okay?” he said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice “I know, okay? And it’s mostly my fault, but Suki is on the pill and- and I didn’t-” he stopped, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I don’t think she’s keeping it. She’s gonna sleep on it, but um-” he stood up, walking to the window because suddenly the air in his room was too thick to breathe. Maybe it was his smoke-damaged lungs. “I’m gonna pay for it. It’s the least I can do, I mean I kind of ruined her life, so the least I can fucking do is pay for the damages and right now, I can’t do anything right, Katara! I can’t do anything without a colossal fuck up!” he was yelling now, and he didn’t know when he started yelling. 

Katara looked taken aback, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. Sokka forced a breath into his stupid lungs. God, he fucked up so much today. 

“I’m sorry I slapped you.” Katara said, her voice soft and careful. Sokka sat back down on the bed, his legs suddenly weak.

“I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn't have taken all that out on you, sorry” he said, his voice cracking on the second sorry. His chest felt tight. The room felt too small. To his surprise, she put her arm around him and rubbed comforting circles on his back.

They stayed like that until he could breathe a little bit better.

_Until he felt like he was at home again._

* * *

The clinic staff was nicer than Sokka expected, giving them supportive smiles as they sat in the white, sterile waiting room. Thankfully, it seemed like Saturday afternoons weren’t the prime time to visit an abortion clinic, so they were some of the only ones there. The plastic chair was digging into Sokka’s back uncomfortably, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. 

Suki was nervous, he could tell. Her eyes kept darting around the room, her leg bouncing with nervous energy. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to put his hand on her thigh, or rub her back. It felt like it would only make it worse. 

Finally, her name was called, and she looked back at him when she stood up, her eyes filled with fear. “Will you come with me?” she asked, then she turned to the woman in scrubs “Can he come with me? Please?” she asked, and Sokka had never seen her so terrified, so he stood up and walked over to her and took her hand, and the nurse didn’t object. 

The lady led them to a room with a table and a screen- Sokka couldn’t take it in. He hated hospitals or anything even remotely hospital-like. He let the details of the room stay fuzzy in his mind. The lady in scrubs left, and she said something before she left, but Sokka didn’t hear. 

When the doctor came in, she seemed slightly more surprised by their age. After asking a series of questions that Sokka wouldn’t be able to repeat if there was a gun to his head, she somehow concluded that Suki was ten weeks along.

They only found out six days ago.

The doctor turned to Sokka, gently asking him to leave while they did the procedure, and Sokka wasn’t proud to say he had never been happier to leave a room.

He muttered that he would be outside before walking out the door, and it should really be about Suki right now, because she was the one who, as he walked out the door of the abortion clinic, was changing into a hospital gown and laying down on a table, and Sokka was pulling out a cigarette and walking to his truck, his head pounding. 

And he had never felt more guilty in his life. His forehead was damp with sweat as he flicked his lighter with shaking hands. He took a shaky breath before raising the cigarette to his lips. He inhaled the smoke directly, without sucking it in first, like a fucking idiot, because yeah, _he wasn’t thinking straight right now, no shit_ , and his throat burned and he coughed, a painful cough that turned into a coughing fit that had him doubled over in the parking lot, his lungs on fire. 

So there he was, doubled over in a coughing fit because he smoked his cigarette way too fast, in the parking lot of an abortion clinic. When his throat and lungs stopped burning enough enough for him to breathe, he pinched off the burnt part of the cigarette with his fingers and put it back into his now almost-empty pack. His throat still hurting, he figured he should head back inside. He wanted to be there when she got out. Even if he still had hours before that happened. 

He wasn’t sure where those hours went, exactly. He just sat in his truck, waiting.

He was there when she got out, and despite her having just gone through a probably terrifying medical procedure, she looked pretty much the same. She was holding a few papers, and what looked like a box of medication. The lady at the front desk motioned for Suki to come forward, and she did, giving Sokka’s arm a quick squeeze.

Suki was nodding at what the woman was saying, and Sokka only caught a few words here and there, but he didn’t try to listen, because he figured if this was information Suki wanted him to know, she would tell him. Apparently, she did want him for this next part, because she looked back and motioned for him to come over. 

The front desk lady glanced at him up and down, as if she was trying to get a read on him. “Are you driving her home today?” she asked, her tone motherly and sweet, and he nodded, clearing his throat before verbally answering.

“Yes. Yeah, I am.” he said, and she smiled appreciatively. She shuffled some papers around at her desk, before reaching for a card that she handed him.

“Here’s the number, in case you need anything, and don’t hesitate to call if you’re worried about anything, okay?” she said as he slipped it into his sweatshirt pocket “You guys are all set!” she said, and Sokka put his arm around Suki’s back. She stiffened at first, but then leaned into his touch, if not somewhat hesitantly. 

“Thank you so much,” Suki said, leaning on Sokka, and he nodded in agreement. The nurse smiled.

“No problem, kids. You two be safe, alright?” she said, and a lump formed in Sokka’s sore throat as they headed out the door arm in arm. 

Suki was gonna be okay. She was a little sore, a little tired and weak, her legs trembling as he helped her up into his truck. He kissed her lightly on the head before he buckled his seatbelt, and he drove her back to her house, a relieved silence hanging in between them.

He helped her up the stairs, her legs shaking less now, and together they went into her house, where she sat down on the couch. 

“Could you get me some water, please?” she asked softly, the first words she’d spoken since she got out. He nodded, going into the kitchen. He knew where the glasses were, and he filled one up for her, grabbing her a granola bar too. Antibiotics needed to be taken with food, he figured. 

He handed her the water and granola bar, and she took them wordlessly as he sat down next to her and opened the box on antibiotics to get her dose for that day. He handed her the pill, and she swallowed it with the water after she ate the granola bar. And neither of them said anything for a long time. Sokka knew it wasn’t his place to speak right now. 

“I’m so glad it’s over” she whispered finally, and he hugged her, neither able to see the tears of relief that had escaped from both of their eyes. She pulled away first, wiping her eyes, and choked out a laugh when she Sokka was doing the same thing. 

* * *

He stayed at her house until late that night, and thank god it was a Saturday, because when he finally got home, he was emotionally and physically exhausted. He headed up to his room without saying hello to Katara or Gran-Gran. He shut his door behind him and closed his eyes. His chest ached when he breathed in, and he sat down on the floor, his back against his wall. He closed his eyes. 

He was home. He was home, and it wasn’t fair that Suki wasn’t home to him anymore, because how could they be home to each other after that? How could he kiss her collarbone, knowing he almost ruined her life? How could she ever want to touch him again, after that?

Sokka lit a cigarette and inhaled the familiar smoke, letting his mind become fuzzy instead of being filled with images of the white rooms and sterile gloves, not just from that day but from years ago, too. Maybe one day he would face it, but not tonight.

Not when he felt like he was the only home he had.

His phone buzzed, and he picked it up, his eyes scanning the screen. He didn't expect his heart to jump in hes chest when he saw the notification: 

_Text message from Zuko_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and thank you to my pals for editing this! Next chapter isn't as heavy, i promise.
> 
> ALSO, i have never had an abortion, and all of the information in this chapter is based off my research, but shouldn't be taken as fact because I am not a doctor.
> 
> Please let me know if anything is inaccurate, and I'll do my best to fix it!
> 
> as always, comments/kudos are appreciated 
> 
> next chapter will be up within a week, hopefully


	3. Like sleep to the freezing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mind, much to his frustration, wandered to Sokka, who had nimble fingers and smelled like cigarette smoke. His hand fumbled in the dark for his phone, which he had gotten in the beginning of the week. It wasn't as nice as his old one, but he couldn't risk bringing it. He winced as the bright screen shined into his eyes, squinting until his eyes adjusted. It was only 9:48, according to his phone, so Sokka was most likely awake, since normal teens who didn't live in group homes went to bed much later than 9:30.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: there's some really vague implied smut, but its not shown (more for my comfort than yours tbh), depictions of panic attacks and trauma, and some unhealthy relationships.
> 
> hopefully this chapter is a little bit lighter, but don't get too attached to that lightness because it's only gonna last for a few chapters before it all goes to shit again :)))
> 
> see the notes at the end for important info about update schedule and other stuff! (if u care)

Boys _Freedom Home_ was a two-story building, with white siding, and a fence surrounding it that was a little too high for Zuko's comfort. Fences either kept people in, or kept people out. This fence was the first one. 

He had been here for one week, one day, twenty-one hours, and forty-six minuets. But he wasn't counting. He was on the older side out of all the boys there, ages ranging from 16 to 19. There was seven boys living there in total, and they were all equally as messed up. They didn't talk about why they were there, they didn't have to. 

Zuko wasn't the only one there with a scar. 

He shared a room with the other older boy, Jet, sharing the carpeted, ten by ten square room. His bed was on the left, which meant when he slept on his left side, like he always did, his back was to the open. And that made him vulnerable, and the doors had to be open, because apparently that made them _more safe_ , as if someone couldn't just walk in and suffocate them in their sleep.

This was a long-winded way of saying Zuko hadn't slept in one week, one day, twenty-one hours, twenty-one and forty-eight minuets. He lay on his right side, staring across the room at Jet, who was fast asleep. _Motherfucker._

His mind, much to his frustration, wandered to Sokka, who had nimble fingers and smelled like cigarette smoke. His hand fumbled in the dark for his phone, which he had gotten in the beginning of the week. It wasn't as nice as his old one, but he couldn't risk bringing it. He winced as the bright screen shined into his eyes, squinting until his eyes adjusted. It was only 9:48, according to his phone, so Sokka was most likely awake, since normal teens who didn't live in group homes went to bed much later than 9:30. He opened the messaging app and clicked on Sokka's name, and his heart skipped a beat as he typed out the word "hey". _This is so stupid_ , he thought, but he sent the text. 

Jet stirred across from him, and Zuko froze as the other boy slowly sat up. He slipped his phone under his pillow and turned his back to Jet. He didn't want to have a conversation with him right now.

"Zuko?" Jet's whispered, his voice groggy from sleep. Apparently, a conversation was unavoidable. Zuko rolled over to see Jet sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless. Zuko slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. The room was cold under the blankets, despite the effort that the small electric space heater was making.

"Can you sleep?" Jet asked, looking Zuko up and down. Something about it made Zuko uncomfortable, but he tried not to show it. He shook his head.

"No. Can you?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbow. Jet shook his head in response, fluffing his hair with his hand, and maybe it was a little hot, okay? _Maybe._

 _"_ Wanna, like, talk or something?" Jet asked, standing up. He eyed Zuko up and down again, and this time, Zuko felt his cheeks flush. He sat up more, looking up at Jet, who was now standing above him. Zuko nodded, and as soon as he did, Jet sat down on his bed next to him, his eyebrows raised. Zuko looked down, and drew in a sharp breath, when Jet's hand wandered to his inner thigh. 

He looked back up at Jet, who was smirking, and this whole thing felt so _wrong_ , so _off_ , yet nothing in Zuko's life had felt _right_ for so long, so, fuck it. He leaned it and Jet kissed him on the neck, hard, maybe a little too hard, but Zuko didn't care. As Jet got on top of him, Zuko felt his heart pounding in his chest, and Jet looked far too confident, but that didn't deter Zuko.

"Have you ever done this before?" Jet whispered, and Zuko shook his head, his whole body feeling warm. 

"I'm ready." he whispered, and Jet didn't waste a second, and Zuko was grateful because the last thing he wanted to do was attach feelings to this. The last thing he wanted to do was catch feelings for anyone else.

They had to be quick and quiet, and to say Zuko enjoyed it would be a stretch. 

* * *

The next morning was silent, Zuko waking up to sunlight peeking through the plastic blinds of his- _the_ _bedroom_ , he corrected. He didn't own anything here. He glanced over to Jet's side of the room to find it empty, the bed stripped of its sheets and blankets. Right. Sunday was laundry day. He checked his phone, and his heart did that stupid skipping-a-beat thing it did when he saw that he had a text from Sokka. 

All it was was a simple " _hey whats up_ " back, but it still gave him those stupid butterflies in his stomach. He swung his legs over the bed, pulling on his pants. Yes, he woke up butt-ass naked, and he wasn't gonna think too hard about that right now. He stood up, apparently too fast, because his vision blacked out. He stumbled for something to grab, his hand landing on the smooth drywall. He steadied himself, slowly opening his eyes. 

He really needed to sleep more, he thought as his head stopped spinning. He slowly made his way downstairs, following the sound of voices until he got to the kitchen, where cereal was set out for breakfast. He absently grabbed a bowl and filled it with off-brand cheerios, making his way to the breakfast table. The only seat available was right across from Jet, who gave him a sly wink. Zuko blushed, not because he was flattered, but because he was embarrassed.   
  


As he sat down, Piandao, who managed the group home along with a few other people, (who Zuko couldn't remember), walked into the dining room. He gave everyone a smile, walking into the kitchen as he spoke to the group of boys.

"Just a reminder- today is laundry day, so any laundry you need done, do it today" he paused, pulling out a coffee mug "Also, the iron is available but _please_ ask before using it." he said, giving the younger boys a pointed look, which made them giggle. Zuko, however, didn't laugh. Instead, he felt the back of his neck get hot, hairs standing up on his arm. If he could help it, he wouldn't go near the iron, or the ironing board or _any_ of it because he could already _smell_ his skin burning and-

He stood up from the table, his chair scraping the ground loudly and without warning. Zuko winced at the sound, and tried to ignore the several pairs of eyes following him as he grabbed his cereal bowl off the table, the milk dripping onto his skin. He dropped the bowl in the sink, going straight out the door and barely making it to the front steps before his legs bucked underneath him. 

He was on the ground. He was outside, the air cold and dry, but all he could smell was _burning_ , and his face itched, and it had been too close. He had been too close to having a whole breakdown at the breakfast table. It wasn't even noon, and he was already on the verge of a panic attack, because some had said the word _iron_. What the _fuck_ was wrong with him. 

His hands shook, grabbing onto his hair. Really, it was his whole body that shook, all the way down to his lungs, each breathe coming in shaky and weak. And that's what he was. Weak.

He suddenly felt eyes on the back of his neck, and he jumped up, spinning around. His hands instinctively went up to protect his face as he stumbled backwards, his pulse racing. 

"Zuko! Hey, it's okay, son!" the threat, the _voice_ , said, and Zuko slowly lowered his hands, placing one on the support beam that held up the roof of the front porch. He hid his other hand, which was still shaking badly, in his pocket. It was just Piandao.

"Oh- oh, hey" he said, trying to sound casual, but failing. His voice wavered, and Piandao took a step forward, a mix of confusion and concern on his face. Zuko flinched at the movement, taking a step backwards. Piandao sighed, but didn't take his eyes off Zuko. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice the polar opposite of Zuko's. Not wanting to say anything else, Zuko just nodded, and Piandao said nothing, pressing his lips together and lowering his head. "I'll give you a minuete" he said, slowly walking backwards, like he was trying not to scare a wild animal. Or, in this case, Zuko thought, a traumatized teenager. 

When he was alone again, Zuko allowed himself to sit down again. He tried to remember the breathing technique that Uncle Iroh had taught him, but his brain was messy, memories overlapping with thoughts, all jumbled around together in a huge, messy knot. 

He decided to just take deep breaths, and thankfully, it kinda worked. He went back inside once his hands stopped shaking.

* * *

He went straight upstairs to collect his laundry, not intending on speaking to anyone. But, of course, when he got to the bedroom, Jet was already there, shoving his clothes haphazardly into the dresser by his bed. Somewhere deep inside, Zuko heard his childhood nanny lecturing him about the importance of folding his clothes. Zuko went over to his side of the room to gather his clothes. He bent down, picking up a sock that was on the floor. As he stood up, he felt Jet's rough hands squeeze his waist. He inhaled sharply, turning around to face Jet, who had his eyebrows furrowed in what Zuko supposed could be concern, but that seemed a little out of character for the taller boy. He pulled away, his back hitting the wall. 

"Not right now, Jet. Please." he said, voice barely above a whisper. To his surprise, Jet stepped back, something different in his coal-black eyes. 

"Okay. But later?" he asked, his voice pleading, and Zuko rolled his eyes at the desperation, reaching for his pile of dirty clothes and picking them up.

"Sure, Jet. Later." 

When Zuko turned back around with his laundry in his arms, Jet was gone, leaving the room empty. He felt his pocket for his phone as he walked down the hallway, which caused him to drop several socks, much to his annoyance. But his phone was in his pocket. Which was good, because he would need to google how to do laundry.

Okay _listen_ , Zuko knew the general _idea_ of laundry, but he had no idea about the more important parts, like how much soap to put in, or which stuff to put where, but it wasn't his fault. He had grown up with nannies and cooks, maids and gardeners. And. his father always drilled into him that cleaning was a _woman's job_. So he had never learned to do laundry. Even at boarding school, he just brought all his dirty clothes home for the staff to wash when he came home on the weekends. 

He followed the kid in front of him to what he assumed was the laundry room, considering the kid was _also_ carrying an armful of clothes, but his were in a little basket. Huh. That might be useful to have. He made a mental note to get a laundry basket. 

* * *

The laundry room was cold, concrete floors and exposed beams. There was a few washing machines and an equal number of dryers. He tried to watch as the kid in front of him, who he now remembered was called Longshot by the other boys, loaded his clothes into the washing machine. He realized, though, that now, all the washing machines were in use, so he dropped his clothes on the floor and sat down, pulling out his phone. His eyes widened as he remembered Sokka's text that he never replied to. He opened the messaging app and stared at the words " _hey whats up"._

He had no idea how to respond to that. He couldn't exactly tell Sokka what was actually going on in his life, not without putting him at risk or pushing him away, so he went with a simple answer. 

_"Not much just making sure ur number was in right"_ he typed out then sent the text without a second thought. Almost immediately, Sokka responded. 

_**Sokka:** Oh cool lol. Hows ur weekend?_

_Shit_ , he thought. Now what? Were they having a conversation now? He felt those stupid butterflies in his stomach again as his thumbs hovered above the keyboard. 

**_Zuko:_ ** _pretty good ig. could be better. hbu?_

He regretted the text as soon as he sent it. Sokka was annoyingly supportive of everyone, so now, he was definetely going to ask what was wrong. To his surprise, however, Sokka didn't 

_**Sokka:** not great rlly me and Suki just broke up._

_Oh._ Wow. Okay. Zuko felt himself start to smile, but quickly stopped himself. Sokka was obviously hurting, and it wasn't right to feel happy that they broke up. He tried to think of what to say without inviting Sokka to vent to him. Sure, he cared about Sokka, but the last thing he wanted to hear about was his breakup with Suki. 

_**Zuko:** oh that sucks buddy_

Buddy? what the fuck was wrong with him. Not only was it super weird to call Sokka buddy, like he was a kindergartener or something, it also kinda seemed innapropriate for the situation. But he couldn't exactly un-text it.

 _**Sokka:** _ _yea its ok tho it was pretty mutual and i kinda knew it was coming._

Zuko remembered that Suki had been out sick Monday and Tuesday, and when she came back, Sokka had seemed even _more_ protective over her. He wondered what had happened, considering it didn't seem like they were about to break up. 

_**Zuko:** is suki doing better tho?_

He realized that talking about Suki was probably not the direction that their conversation should go, but he was kinda curious about what had been going on between the two of them, with their whispering and constantly disappearing together the last three days of the week. 

_**Sokka:** _ _what?_

Zuko's heart dropped into his stomach. He should't have said that. He probably messed this whole thing up now. Thankfully, Zuko had been trained in damage control, being the son of a prominent public figure his whole life. He quickly typed back a response.

 _**Zuko** _ **_:_ ** _she was sick earlier this week right? is she feeling better?_

He hoped it didn't come off too nosy, or like he was prying too much, but Sokka didn't seem to mind.

 _**Sokka** _ _**:** _ _oh yeah lol shes fine just a stomach bug_

Zuko let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't ruined it, thank god. He was desperate to keep the conversation going, though, so he sent another text.

 _**Zuko** _ **_:_ ** _sooo anything else happen lmao_

_**Sokka:** lol no that was most of my weekend. u?_

Zuko leaned his head back against the wall, feeling the cold concrete through his hair. He heard a noise at the door and quickly sat up, only to see it was just one of the other boys, coming to switch his laundry over. Right, laundry. The reason Zuko had come down here in the first place.

_**Zuko** **:** nah just doing laundry. btw, do u know how to do laundry?_

He could probably just google it, but, again, he would rather keep talking to Sokka. He received a question mark back and a small smile formed on his face. Ok yeah, he could definitely google this, but it was way more fun doing it this way.

_**Sokka:** dude what_

_**Sokka:** its not that hard_

_**Sokka:** they don't teach you that in douchebag school?_

**_Sokka:_ ** _that was a ROAST by the way. I roasted u._

Zuko chuckled. He couldn't help but like Sokka's humor, as dumb as it was. He kept up the playfulness that Sokka started

 _**Zuko:** _ _no they only teach you how to live off of daddys money. I fr dont know how to do laundry_

 **_Sokka:_ ** _holy fuck okay ft me and ill explain it im on break rn_

Oh. right. Sokka had a job. Zuko suddenly felt guilty for bothering him. 

**_Zuko:_ ** _wait if ur at work i can google it_

Zuko didn't get a response. Instead, his phone lit up, Sokka having facetimed him. He glanced around the room to make sure he was alone before answering. 

Sokka's video quality was grainy, but even so, Zuko could tell he was outside somewhere. He had an amused grin on his face, and he looked like he was wearing a uniform of some sort, a polo shirt with a name tag. Somehow, he managed to still be somewhat attractive. 

"Okay, do you seriously not know how to do laundry?" Sokka asked, unable to keep the giddy amusement out of his face. Zuko rolled his eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed. 

"Shut up. It's not like you're the epitome of responsibility, here" he retorted, and Sokka laughed, his face going out of frame for a few seconds. When he popped back in, he exhaled a bit of smoke, which Zuko saw even Sokka tried to hide it behind his hand. He didn't berate Sokka about it though. Right now he just genuinely wanted to know how to do laundry. Apparently, the other boy was reading his mind. 

"Okay so first-" he turned away from the camera and coughed into his elbow "sorry. First, you put the clothes..." he trailed off as Zuko gathered his laundry and walked it over to the washing machine. "You know what? Let me know when you've put the clothes in, kay?" he said with a laugh, and Zuko rolled his eyes. setting his phone down on top of the washing machine while he put the clothes in. 

"Okay, clothes in. Now what?" he asked, picking up his phone. Sokka hadn't been prepared for that, evidently, because he had his cigarette in his hand, in between his long, nimble fingers. Sokka coughed again.

"Okay go get detergent" he said, clearing his throat. Zuko rolled his eyes, holding up the bottle. Sokka nodded "Okay, now fill the little cup up to the first line and pour it-" he paused. "Is there a little soap compartment?" he asked. Zuko frowned, looking around the washing machine for this 'soap compartment'. He didn't find one, so he shook his head.

"So I just pour it in there, then?"

"Yup. Then start that baby up" Sokka said, taking a dramatic drag of his cigarette. Zuko rolled his eyes, doing what Sokka said and shutting the washing machine door. He pressed the 'normal load' button, then pressed the 'start' button. Upon hearing the washing machine rumble to life, Sokka gave Zuko a thumbs up. "Awesome. Okay. I gotta get back to work, unfortunately" he said with a pout, and Zuko laughed breathily. 

"Alright. Thanks man" he said, his finger hovering over the end call button. 

"Bye!" Sokka said, and just like that, the call ended. 

Zuko realized he was grinning to himself in the laundry room, and quickly forced himself to snap out of it. _He doesn't like you_ , he reminded himself. He slipped his phone into his pocket, heading back up to his room. 

When he got there, Jet was waiting, sprawled out on his bed. Zuko looked away and sighed.

* * *

Zuko got off the bus, immediately getting hit with the dry cold of November. He didn’t have a jacket, just his hoodie, so he walked quickly into the building. 

  
He could have been imagining it, or it could have been his totally shit vision, but he could have sworn that several people were staring at him. He immediately felt self-conscious. Did he have something on his face? Well, something besides his _huge fucking scar?_ Maybe people were just staring at the scar. He had only been here for a few weeks, so maybe not everyone was used to it. He knew he wasn’t used to it, even if it had been three years. He still rarely looked in the mirror if he could help it.   
  
When he got to Physics class, Sokka was already there and _holy shit_. _His hair was down._

  
If Sokka had been hot before, now he was gorgeous. With his usual ponytail, his sharp jawline and piercings were visible, his profile sharp and chiseled, especially for a 17 year old. With his hair down, though, he looked... _soft?_ His hair brushed his jawline, dark and thick. He was twisting a strand of it with his fingers, and Zuko felt-

He was staring, he realized. He tore his eyes away, sitting down next to Sokka, who looked over at him, tentatively taking out his earbud. He didn't say anything to Zuko, which stung, but it wasn't like he had a _reason to_ , or anything. 

"Hey." Sokka said, his voice a little quieter than usual. Zuko recalled their conversation from the previous day, and he determined that Sokka's somber mood made sense. 

"Hey" he said back, and Sokka glanced over at him, and maybe Zuko was just imagining it but he could have sworn Sokka's eyes were tracing him. The dark eyes landed on Zuko's neck, widening. 

"Dude, you got..." he gestured vaguely to his neck unhelpfully "you, uh, might wanna just take a look in your phone camera?" he said, his voice raising in pitch slightly. Why was Sokka so flustered? Did he have like, toothpaste or something on him? He opened his phone camera, looking for whatever Sokka had been staring at. His brow furrowed when he didn't see anything, but then his eyes landed on it. 

_Holy shit._

Yesterday's events came flooding back to him. Jet, on top of him, his mouth on Zuko's neck. He didn't think it would be... so visible, a dark, fresh-looking hickey, right above the line of his hoodie. He felt his cheeks grow hot, and he set his phone down on the table, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt forward in an attempt to hide it. He didn't look at Sokka, sure his face was red with embarrassment. 

"Dude, you're fine. No one can see it" Sokka paused uncertainly "I mean, at least now, nobody can see it. Since... you covered it" he finished awkwardly, and Zuko put his face down on the lab table and groaned. 

"I fucking hate myself" he mumbled into the wood of the table. Sokka snorted, which for some reason, made Zuko feel a little better. Maybe it was because it was a cute laugh. 

"Me too, man" Sokka said, laughing softly. 

* * *

They got assigned a project. A _partner_ project. Together. 

Zuko was so fucked. 

Sokka had said that he would text him once he knew his work schedule so they could figure out when they were gonna work on it outside of school. At the mention of seeing Sokka outside of school, one on one, Zuko's stomach once again did that _stupid_ fluttery thing. He hated it. 

When he got to the lunch table that day, his stomach fluttered for a _different_ reason. The reason was that Katara was sitting there, all by herself. Nobody else was there yet. Awesome. 

Zuko swallowed and went over to sit down, not daring to sit less that two seats away. 

"I don't bite, you know" she said, and Zuko's head snapped up to look at her. Over the past few weeks, her attitude towards him had softened, but there was clearly still some resentment in her. 

"I know" he said, pausing and looking around. "Can I ask... did I do something wrong?" his voice was a little more fearful than he would have liked, and Katara's face softened before she seemed to remember who he was and her gaze turned steely again.

"Not... not exactly. Not... directly to me." she said, touching a small pendant on her neck. She always wore it, Zuko noted. She took a deep breathe, looking at Zuko with an intensity he had only seen hints of in Sokka, but for Katara, it was much more regular. "I know who your father is. Senator Ozai Hirata?" she said, and Zuko completely froze. He had suspected Katara knew who he was, who his father was, but to hear his father's name so suddenly, without warning, made him feel sick to his stomach instantly. 

"Please don't say his name. I... I hate him too." was all he managed to say, and to his surprise, Katara reached her hand out and hesitantly touched his arm. He flinched and pulled away. 

"I'm sorry..." she said, and it sounded genuine and honest. He didn't look at her, his hand going up to rub the scar on his chest. 

"What did he do to you?" he asked, his voice shaky. Katara's hand pulled away suddenly. 

"You probably don't remember it..." she paused, waiting for some acknowledgement from him. He glanced up at her but didn't meet his eyes. 

"Try me. I can't forget anything he did, no matter how hard I try" he said, picking at his fingernails. Katara drew in a breathe, hesitating before she spoke next. 

"The factory collapse in Nome. My mother-" her voice broke off, and Zuko met Katara's eyes, which were watery. He tried to look sympathetic, but it was hard when he wasn't sure exactly what happened. "She worked there. She was in there when it collapsed, and your father-" she snapped, and Zuko flinched away from her "your father _knew_. He _knew it wasn't safe_ " her voice shook with rage, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. Then she took a deep breath. "But, I see now that you're nothing like him. I'm sorry" she finished. Zuko felt like he just experienced whiplash. He face twisted in confusion.

"That's- that's it?" he asked, bracing himself for something else. Katara tilted her head.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her fingers tracing the pendant. 

"I mean, you're not more mad?" he asked, equally as confused as she was. Katara shook her head, smiling. 

"No. I. . . should have never been mad at you." she reached out her hand again, and this time, Zuko didn't jump away. "However, I'm still keeping an eye on you, okay? I don't trust easy" she warned, and a small laugh escaped Zuko's lips. 

"Understood" he said, nodding. She pulled her hand away and went to open her lunch. As Zuko dug into his own food, Sokka slid in next to him, smelling strongly of cigarettes. Zuko gave him a small smile. 

"What are you guys talking about?" he asked while unpacking his lunch. Katara cleared her throat. 

"Sokka, come with me a minuete?" she asked, and Zuko looked in between the two of them. Sokka mumbled something that Zuko didn't quite hear as he stood up. Katara dragged him by the arm, away from the table. Aang sat down next to Zuko wordlessly, setting his dinosoar lunchbox down on the table. His eyes followed Zuko's gaze to where the siblings appeared to be having an intense conversation. He nudged Zuko. 

"Don't be nosy" he said, taking a bite of an apple. Zuko looked away. 

"Sorry. Didn't mean too. Where's Toph?" he asked, swiftly changing the subject. Aang swallowed hit bite. 

"Taking a test, I think. How are you?" he asked as Zuko opened his granola bar and took a bite. Zuko shrugged. 

"Y'know. As good as I can be-" he was cut off by Aang grabbing his shoulder and pulling him closer. 

"Dude, what _happened_ to your _neck?!"_ he asked, his eyes wide, and Zuko rolled his eyes, his cheeks burning.

"Now who's nosy?" he said, pushing Aang off of him. 

"Okay, got it, yeesh!" Aang said, going back to his food. 

Katara and Sokka didn't say anything when they got back, but lunch was quiet the rest of the time anyways. 

* * *

That night, Sokka texted him, but Zuko didn't see it right away. He saw it as he rolled over after Jet had gone back to his own bed. They hadn't actually _done_ anything since the first time, not in the same way. Just some making out, maybe Zuko gave jet a blowjob. It didn't matter. It didn't _mean_ anything to either of them. 

Sokka had asked if he was available Wednesday after school to work on his project, and Zuko immediately replied that he was, rolling over to the cold side of his pillow. 

"Who are you texting with?" Jet asked gruffly. Zuko's breath caught in his chest, and something about Jet's voice screamed _danger, danger, danger, get OUT-_

"Just a kid from school. About a school thing." he replied lamely, trying to speak over the blaring panic alarm in his head. Jet shifted in his bed. 

"Kinda late for that." Jet grumbled, and Zuko decided he should put his phone down. 

"He works late, I think. Or something." he replied, his mouth feeling very dry all the sudden. _Danger, he's not safe,_ his brain unhelpfully repeatedly. 

"Or something?" Jet repeated, and Zuko could hear the snarl in his voice. He sat up, reaching for the lamp. He turned it on. 

"Is there a problem?" he asked, spitting venom into his words, the way he used to every time he spoke. Jet sat up, the light hitting his shirtless torso, illuminating his ' _fuck the government_ ' tattoo on his right pec. 

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe I don't want you talking to other guys" he snarled, squinting in the lamplight.

"Why?" Zuko asked defensively "we're not dating. You just want something to stick your dick in." Zuko hated to admit it, but he liked the rush of adrenaline he got from anger. And it had been _so long._

"That's not true, babe-" Jet started. 

"Babe?" Zuko said, his voice raising in pitch "Don't fucking call me that." He said, throwing himself back down onto his bed. He shut off the light. Jet didn't say anything afterwards, and Zuko felt a small sense of victory at that. But he still slept on his left side, the light within reach and his backpack and shoes fully ready to go right by his bed.

He couldn't be too careful. Not after what happened the last time he felt like he had a home. He knew he wasn't safe here, in fact, the only time he had felt even _remotely_ safe was when he was on facetime with Sokka-

_Oh._

He had it _bad_. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooo boy we're getting to the main plot now my dudes. hold on tight, its gonna be a ride
> 
> The upload schedule from here might not be as consistent- I had chap 1&and 2 pre-written when I posted this fic, but nothing else was pre-written. Because I am a student as well as a competitive dancer, my time for writing is kinda limited.
> 
> That being said, I hope chapter four will be out sometime early next week. My plan is to pre-write a couple chapters at least over thanksgiving, so hopefully I can just edit and post from there.
> 
> I know where I want this story to go, but this is my first time writing something this big, so bear with me, I haven't exactly perfected my processes (if you have any story planning tips please lmk in the comments lol) 
> 
> anyways, comments appreciated, and kudos as well, thanks again for reading, let me know what you think!
> 
> IMPORTANT EDIT: as of 11/25/2020, this fic has changed from weekly to monthly updates I’m sorry I just don’t have the time or brainpower to update this weekly


	4. It's crazy what you'll do for a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big TW for this one: self harm and mentions of self harm scars, see end notes for a more specific TW. Smoking, as usual.

The Iyaituk household was warm and welcoming. It was chalk-full of memories, pictures from Sokka's childhood, and far before. There was a fur pelt from their village back in Alaska on the arm of the couch, which was worn with years of use. It was Sokka's home, at least for these past couple years, but he had always found home in others more. In Katara, who was constant and steady, in Gran-Gran, who was reassuring, and also, the closest thing to a parent he had at the moment, in Suki, who's body had been familiar and who's touch had been anchoring him to the earth. 

But Suki wasn't his home anymore, for obvious reasons. The breakup had been mutual, but it had stung deeply. They had been together for a year and a half, after all. He rolled over and picked up his phone. Sleep wasn't going to happen tonight. 

He found himself re-reading the texts between him and Zuko. The other boy had seemed sympathetic, if not a bit awkward when Sokka told him about the breakup. He didn't know why he cared so much about Zuko's reaction, though. He just did. He rolled back over, staring at the time at the top of his phone screen. 

_3:17 A.M._

Fuck. He sat up, grunting as his body adjusted to the new position. He coughed into his elbow, hoping he didn't wake anyone else with his noise. His lungs ached with craving, and he reached over to his nightstand for the open pack he kept there. He grabbed it, simultaneously swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He stretched, the stillness of his bedroom echoing back at him. He slowly stood, grabbing his lighter and slipping it into the pocket of his pajama bottoms, along with the cigarette. He reached for his hockey sweatshirt, the one he had taken back from Suki and pulled it on. It wasn't likely it was below thirty, but that was still cold. Not freezing, but still cold. He stepped into his slippers and slowly, carefully made his way from his room to the back door, all the way downstairs. 

He snuck past Katara's room, and snuck even quieter past Gran-Gran. He was careful to not step on the floorboards he knew would creak, shuffling quietly. He cursed in a whisper when he heard a creak, freezing until he was sure no one had woken. When the coast was clear, he continued down the hall and down the stairs. He cut through the kitchen, opening the door in the way he usually did so it didn't creak, slowly squeezing himself out onto the back steps. He sighed in relief, his breath visible in the cold air.

As the familiar smoke entered his chest, he felt himself relax again. He exhaled, the smoke making a bigger cloud in the cold air than just his breath. He breathed in again, and exhaled, and repeated the pattern until the cigarette was almost gone. Then, without thinking, he pressed the glowing end onto the back of his hand, just next to his thumb. He sucked in a breath when his skin started to burn, quickly pulling his hand away. What was he thinking? 

The answer was that he wasn't thinking. All it took was one thing, one constant in his life being removed, and he was back to old habits. He pushed up his sleeve, looking at the faded, circular scars on the inside of his arm. They could barely be seen, unless you knew to look for them, but to him, they were as obvious as the fresh wound on his hand. He dropped the butt on the ground and headed back inside just as quietly. 

He couldn't go back to sleep, not now. His eyes were fully adjusted to the dark, and his body was fully awake. He sat on the edge of his bed, putting the pack and lighter back in his nightstand. He had stopped trying to quit. He wasn't keeping track anymore. 

He pulled out his planner, opening to that month. He read through it. He had always been one for plans. He liked making plans, always had. Right now, though, his brain wasn't awake enough to process any new information. Any information at all, actually. He flopped back down on his bed, his head hitting the pillow, and he shut his eyes.

When he opened them again, light was creeping through his blinds. He sat up suddenly, the feeling of a nightmare he couldn't remember lurking in his chest. He looked at the clock. 

_7:20 A.M._

* * *

They were given class time to work on their physics classroom. While he started the slideshow presentation, Zuko sketched out a plan for the bridge they were going to make. The room was quiet, the absence of sound pressing against Sokka's ears. He scratched at the burn on his hand, ignoring the sting of the wound until his fingertip felt wet. He glanced down to see he was bleeding. 

"Shit. I'll be right back" he muttered, standing up. Zuko nodded, saying nothing. Part of him wished that the other boy had asked if everything was okay, but that was the stupid part of him. He asked Ms. Zeng if he could go to the nurse, and of course, she said yes. 

Holding his bleeding hand in the non-bleeding one, he walked down the hall quickly, hoping he wouldn't bump into anyone. Of course, just his luck, he bumped into _Suki,_ of all people. He gave her a polite smile, but her eyes went straight to his bleeding hand. 

"Sokka, are you okay?" she asked, and for a second it was as if nothing had changed. Then the second ended. 

"Yeah, just picked a scab. I'm going to the nurse, for a band-aid." he explained while walking. She was walking with him now. 

"I'll walk you there." she said, and Sokka knew that it wasn't an offer, it was an order. Back when they first had gotten together, his mental health had been far worse, still recovering from Yue and all that. As much as he tried not to think about it (because thinking about it might mean slipping back into it), he used to cause these types of injuries to himself on purpose. The circular scars on his arm, among many others, had been self-inflicted. Suki had helped him get comfortable enough to talk to Katara about it, and both of them had helped him stop doing it, especially when he did it out of habit, like _he just did now_. He blinked hard, trying to erase that from his mind. It wasn't a relapse. It was an accident. The nurses office was just a few doors down now. 

Suki waited until he had put the band-aid on to ask the dreaded question. He wasn't sure if his answer was honest or not, but his answer of _No, not on purpose_ left a bad taste in his own mouth. 

"I'm fine, Suk. It was an accident." he said, not looking at her. She didn't say anything else, just nodded. They parted ways when they hallway branched into two. As he re-entered the classroom, it was still just as quiet. He sat back down next to Zuko, who was still sketching rather intensely. He peered over the other boy's shoulder, curiosity getting the best of him. It was actually really good. He could tell that Zuko had taken some sort of art lessons. "That's really good, man. It doesn't need to be perfect, though, just a plan." he said, and Zuko dropped his pencil, seemingly startled. Sokka leaned back, away from Zuko. 

"Oh. Thanks. Sorry... kinda got carried away. How are the slides going?" he asked, glancing at Sokka's computer, which had a black screen. He tapped the mousepad, bringing the display back up. 

"I'd say good. What else is there to this project?" he asked, reaching into his backpack for the grading rubric to check. Zuko beat him to it. 

"The actual bridge and then the verbal presentation." he said nonchalantly. Sokka froze. He hated giving presentations with every muscle in his body. 

"Verbal presentation?" his voice cracked. 

"Yeah. So tomorrow when we work on it, I'm thinking we should script that out?" Sokka nodded, but his mind was elsewhere.

"Cool. Awesome. Sounds great." he muttered, his eyes focusing straight ahead on the computer screen. He was fine. He could do this.

* * *

Wednesday rolled around, and thankfully, Sokka actually got sleep that night. Katara found him that morning cleaning his room as fast as he could, throwing clothes into the hamper while spraying air freshener. 

"So you choose twenty minutes before we leave to clean your room? After months?" she said, leaning against his door frame. He groaned, rolling his eyes. 

"I'll have you know that I am having a _guest_ over after school." he said, putting a hand on his hip. Katara raised her eyebrows.

"So soon after Suki? You know you're kind of a whore-" she teased, and Sokka groaned again.

" _Katara! Not that kind of guest!"_ he hissed, fluffing his pillow. "Zuko is coming over to work on our _physics project."_ he retorted as she left his room. 

"I'm going to Aangs after school, then!" she called as she walked away. He shook his head, brushing the crumbs off his desk. He didn't know why, but he felt the need to make his room nice for Zuko. Was there something wrong with that? 

A little while later, Katara yelled that they were going to be late, and he ran downstairs, jumping over the last two steps, which earned him a yell from Gran-Gran of 

_"No jumping off the stairs!"_ In Inuktitut, which he completely ignored because jumping off the last two stairs was fun. He was excited for today, a full nights sleep under his belt (and nicotine and caffeine coursing through his veins). Plus, he had a goal today:

Get Zuko Hirata to smile. 

He started his truck, humming as he turned his key in the ignition. Katara was most definitely not in the same mood, putting her headphones in and looking out the window like the angsty sixteen-year-old she is. 

He played his happy playlist through his aux cord, and sang along to Kiwi by Harry Styles, perhaps going above the speed limit.

Today was going to be a better day.

* * *

If Zuko thought his truck was trashy and run down, he would be correct. But he didn't say that out loud, though, just sat in the passenger seat, very still, as if he didn't want to disturb anything. Sokka pulled out of his parking spot, his hand behind Zuko's headrest. As he was turning his head to look behind him, he caught Zuko's eyes for a very brief moment, a split second only, but they stuck in his head the whole ride home. They were a light golden brown, which was an unusual color, not just because Zuko was Japanese, but he had genuinely never seen eyes quite like those before. 

"Sokka!" Zuko yelped from the passenger seat, causing Sokka to swerve the car inward. He had been going over the yellow line because he was thinking of _Zuko's fucking eyes._

"Shit, man. Sorry, spaced out" he explained, and Zuko let out a sigh. 

"It's fine." he muttered, looking out the window. Sokka didn't make any more mistakes the rest of the way home. He tried not to glance over at Zuko's face as he pulled into the driveway. His house was probably much smaller than anywhere Zuko had lived. He was probably used to something much nicer. But, again, Zuko didn't make any comments. Because he wasn't an asshole, _despite his father_ , he thought. He put the car in park and turned it off, glancing over at Zuko. He unbuckled his seat belt, waving his hand in an obnoxious flourish with a mocking bow. 

"Shall we, sire?" he said with a snicker. Zuko raised his eyebrows in amusement, but his lips didn't turn into a smile. They would get there. 

He walked in front, leading Zuko up the front door. He opened it, kicking his shoes off. He set his backpack down, and gave Zuko a nod as the other boy started doing the same. "Do you need anything before we start? Snack? Water? Bathroom?" he offered, mostly out of the manners Gran-Gran had drilled into his head, but also, selfishly, because he needed an excuse to go out for a quick smoke. Thankfully, Zuko asked where the bathroom was, and he showed him to it before turning the other direction, back out the door. He fished his stuff out of his backpack, but stopped when he heard the shuffling footsteps of his grandmother. 

" _Do you have a friend over?"_ she asked, speaking in Inuktitut. He nodded. 

" _Yeah. For a school project"_ he responded. Despite speaking it frequently with both Katara and Gran-Gran, his sister was still much more comfortable in their first language than him. To be fair, childhood trauma does make your memory block out a few things. Gran-Gran clicked her tongue in disappointment when she saw the lighter in his hand, but she didn't chastise him for it, at least not for now. He quickly went outside to do what he had originally planned to before he was interrupted.

When he finished, he found Zuko awkwardly standing in the kitchen, a bowl of fresh cut fruit in front of him. Gran-Gran seemed to be staring him down. Sokka couldn't help but laugh a bit. 

" _Your friend is too thin. Make sure he finishes his fruit"_ she patted Sokka on the shoulder, then turned her attention to Zuko. "You eat that, okay? You need your fruits." she seemed satisfied with the conversation, and with that, she left them in the kitchen. Zuko cracked a small smile, and to Sokka's surprise, he actually took the bowl of fruit with him when they went upstairs to Sokka's room. Sokka shut the door behind him, turning to Zuko. 

"I'm sorry, she means well" he said apologetically, but Zuko shook his head. 

"It's fine, honestly. It was kinda nice. I haven't spoken to, like, a grandma in a while?" he said, and Sokka nodded. 

"Oh, man, you're missing out. Living with your grandma rocks." he said, throwing himself onto his bed. He tilted his head towards his desk chair. "You can sit there, if you want. Make yourself comfortable." Zuko looked anything but comfortable, but he sat down in the desk chair nonetheless.

"So it's just you, Katara, and your Grandma?" he asked softly, and Sokka picked up what Zuko was hinting at. Whether or not his dad was around. He nodded, picking at his cuticles. 

"Yeah, until thanksgiving break. Then my dad comes home." he said, and Zuko's one eyebrow furrowed as he took a bite of an apple slice. 

"Where is he?" 

"Afghanistan. He's been there for almost a year, but his deployment is almost up so he's coming home soon" he smiled, unable to contain the little spark of excitement that ran through him at the mention of his dad coming home. 

"That's really soon. You guys must be excited" Zuko said, and there was something a little bit sad behind the other boy's voice. Sokka had the feeling he should change the subject. 

"We are. So, shall we get started, my prince?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. It may have just been the lighting, but he could swear Zuko's cheeks flushed with warmth. 

"Prince?" Zuko questioned, and Sokka shrugged, pulling his physics folder out of his backpack. Zuko already had his out. 

"Okay, I've been saving some cardboard for this," Sokka reached under his bed to get the broken-down boxes he had been putting there since the project was assigned Monday, "It's not much, but we're not making a _huge_ bridge, so this should be enough, right?" Sokka looked at Zuko, who nodded in confirmation. 

"Yeah, this is perfect." The other boy reached for a piece of cardboard, which caused his hoodie to shift slightly. Sokka tried not to react when he saw the number of hickies had increased since Monday. Secretly, when he saw the first one, part of him, the _stupid_ part, had hoped that it was a one-time thing. But apparently, Zuko was in a relationship, or, at least, he had a regular booty call. He blinked, changing the channel in his brain back to the project at hand. 

He started tracing out the shape of the bridge, occasionally glancing at Zuko, who was doing the same. The two of them worked in comfortable silence until Sokka got up to get a pair of scissors. 

"Can I use those after you?" Zuko asked, and Sokka nodded. He switched from his left hand, which he had been using to trace, to his right hand to use the scissors. After he had cut out the base of the bridge, he handed them to Zuko. "Are you ambidextrous?" Zuko asked, and Sokka was about to answer, but then his hand fully touched Zuko's over the scissors, and a shiver ran up his spine. 

"You betcha, my guy" he said, and internally cursed himself. Why the hell did he say that, was he even _trying_ to keep this friendship going? Apparently, it wasn't as cringe of a response as he thought, because he could swear the corners of Zuko's mouth turned upwards. Just a little.

* * *

They finished their bridge fairly quickly, but planning out their presentation had taken a bit longer (it was partially Sokka's fault- he had gotten freaked out about presenting and had gone out for another smoke to calm down). It wasn't exactly a hard project, but Sokka still felt proud of it. Overall, it had only taken them three hours, which both of them considered a success. He leaned back, admiring their work. Zuko didn't look nearly as proud, but then again, Zuko wasn't very expressive. 

"Looks good," Zuko started to stand up from the floor where they had ended up sitting, but paused, blinking hard. Sokka's stomach dropped as the other boy stumbled backwards, and without a second thought, he jumped up and put a supporting hand on Zuko's back. 

"Zuko, are you okay?" he asked as the other boy steadied himself, unable to hide the concern he was feeling. He could feel the other boy's heartbeat, which was strong and fast, through the other boy's hoodie. He never realized how _skinny_ Zuko was. 

"I'm fine. Just stood up too fast, y'know?" Zuko said somewhat defensively, and Sokka knew he wouldn't budge on the topic, so he took his hand off of Zuko's back, but Zuko didn't flinch when he realized Sokka had been touching him, not like he usually did at a strangers touch. Sokka's heart did a little hopeful dance. 

"Oh, yeah. That sucks when that happens." he said, and him and Zuko were standing closer than they ever had before. Zuko had long eyelashes on his good eye, and they were pretty. Sokka smiled. 

_Oh._

_Oh shit._

He felt his cheeks burn, and he looked away and prayed Zuko didn't notice. Zuko picked up his backpack, not saying a word, and Sokka wished he would. Sokka spoke instead. "Do you need a ride home?" he asked, looking back at Zuko, who had his backpack on his shoulders. Zuko sucked in a breath and rocked back on his heels before nodding.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." he said quietly, and Sokka nodded, grabbing his keys off of his nightstand. His eyes caught on the pack of cigarettes next to them, but he decided not to grab them. He didn't feel the need. 

"Okie dokie, artichoke-y. You ready to go now?" he asked, and Zuko rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were pointing upwards again. Sokka winked at him, then spun around on his heel, Zuko following behind him. He went down the stairs two at a time, jumping over the last two. Thankfully, Gran-Gran was in the living room so she couldn't yell at him for being unsafe on the stairs (he was perfectly safe. Most of the time). He glanced back at Zuko, who went down the stairs in a manner than his elderly grandmother _would_ approve of. He went over and put his shoes on, and found himself studying Zuko as the other boy did the same. 

Zuko put his shoes on carefully, as if he was trying not to wrinkle or crease them, which made no sense to Sokka, because Zuko was loaded and could buy new shoes whenever he wanted. Zuko stood back up and they headed out to Sokka's truck. 

It had gotten dark while they had been upstairs working on the project, the crisp November air brushing Sokka's exposed neck. They got in the truck, which was cold as hell because they didn't have a garage, and Sokka started it, apologizing for how cold it was. 

"It's fine, my bedroom is colder," Zuko said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Sokka was, again, confused. He knew Zuko lived with his uncle, but he also was pretty sure that Ozai Hirata's brother could afford heat. He pulled out of the driveway, then stopped, looking over at Zuko. 

"I need your address," he said, shifting into the park and pulled out his phone. Zuko pressed his lips together, then took a deep breath. Why was Zuko so nervous all the sudden?

"Can I just put it in myself?" he asked, holding out his hand, and Sokka handed his phone over, their fingertips brushing again and he should _really stop freaking out every time that happened._ Zuko handed his phone back over, and Sokka attached it to his dashboard with his suction-cup holder thing and started driving where google maps told him to.

The closer they got to Zuko's house, the more anxious he seemed to get. Sokka kept his eyes mostly on the road, but every time he looked in Zuko's direction, the boy's golden eyes were unfocused, but staring straight ahead at the road. He repeatedly twisted his ring on his middle finger. Sokka turned onto Zuko's street, which seemed like a fairly nice street. He slowed down, trying to read the house numbers, but he came to a stop when he realized that Zuko never gave him a house number at all. He cleared his throat to break the silence.

"What's the number?" he asked, and he could feel Zuko tense up. He muttered something under his breath that Sokka couldn't hear. "Sorry, I didn't catch that?" he said, glancing around at the houses. 

"I said that it's... it's the Boy's freedom, it's just a few houses down" Zuko said, his voice carrying a shame that Sokka hadn't heard from him before.

"What?" Sokka asked, not because he didn't hear him, but because he didn't know what else to say, didn't know how to respond to what Zuko just said. Zuko didn't meet Sokka's gaze, eyes remaining unfocused, staring ahead. 

"I-" Zuko started, but stopped, biting his lip "I can't live with my uncle anymore. My dad- _Ozai_ \- found me there." Zuko's voice was shaking, and Sokka reached out, putting his hand lightly on top of Zuko's trembling one in the middle of the car. 

"Zuko, I-" he started, but he didn't get to finish.

"Sokka, _don't."_ Zuko interjected, finally meeting Sokka's eyes. He wasn't crying, but he looked close. He didn't want Zuko to cry. 

"Where do you want me to drop you off?" Sokka asked softly, not breaking eye contact. Zuko looked as if a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders, and he let out a shaky breath that made Sokka's chest ache with how familiar it sounded. 

"Just one house before is fine. Thank you." Zuko's voice was barely a whisper, but there was no other sound in Sokka's truck besides the engine, and the sound of Sokka slowly pressing on the gas. 

His head was still swirling when he pulled up one house away, still spinning as Zuko got out of the passenger seat and gave him a wave and a grateful _smile._ Because he got Zuko to smile, but he would rather it be for any other reason than this. He waited until Zuko was out of sight to turn his truck around and light a cigarette. His thoughts were still racing as he drove back home on autopilot because holy _fuck._

 _Zuko didn't have a home. And he wanted to be that for Zuko._

He wanted to be a home to Zuko, whatever that meant. He wanted Zuko to be comfortable around him, to relax around him, to like him. He wanted to see him laugh, see him smile. He got a smile today. He got a _smile_. He wanted to feel Zuko's touch again because his hands were warm and surprisingly gentle and his lips-

 _Whoa._

He didn't know how to feel about this, and he knew for a fact that Zuko had someone else. Someone who had made it clear on Zuko's neck that _they_ were who he went home to. He didn't know if Zuko was even into guys. He didn't know a lot of things, in case that wasn't somehow already clear. 

But he did know one thing, he told himself as he pulled into his driveway: 

Zuko's eyes made his heart _flutter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: self harm, specifically burning oneself with a cigarette and picking/scratching 
> 
> id like to not only thank queenofconstellations and spicybitch14, but miss taylor swift and her new album for the inspiration to write this chapter
> 
> Sorry this one took so long! I ended up scrapping it and restarting because it didn't feel right + I didn't have a lot of time to write. Hopefully from here on out I'll be updating every week/two weeks
> 
> You may have noticed the chapter count went down as well, which is because this slow burn is gonna speed up to a slightly more medium burn, roughly 25 mph like we're in a school zone. I didn't want to write any filler because... why would I
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading, comments and kudos are GREATLY appreciated!  
> Thanks for reading!


	5. I'm never gonna get too close to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko didn't know how to comfort his friend besides awkwardly patting his shoulder (Sokka's whole body was trembling, Zuko realized). Sokka, to his surprise, leaned into Zuko's touch, and he could feel Sokka's deep breathing. 
> 
> "Are you gonna be okay for our presentation?" he asked, and Sokka nodded. 
> 
> Then, Sokka did something that made Zuko's heart flutter:
> 
> He grabbed Zuko's hand and squeezed it under the table. Sokka's hand was warm and shaky, a bandaid breaking the smoothness of his skin below his knuckles. Without meaning to, Zuko began to rub comforting circles on the back of Sokka's hand. 
> 
> And it was nice. It was so nice. It felt right. He gave it another squeeze, feeling warm inside. Sokka squeezed back twice in quick succession. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: jet being an abusive piece of shit, panic attacks, child abuse/emotional abuse, non-graphic depictions of violence
> 
> just realized this fic has 150 kudos!!!! thank you all so much!!

Sokka had a nice family. He had a nice house, too, every inch of it was crammed with memories and culture and _warmth_. His Gran-Gran was kind, and Zuko could see how strong their family genes were despite her age. He knew where Sokka got his gentleness from, especially when the elderly woman's hands, lined with traditional tattoos around her fingers, clasped his firmly and told him he was always welcome at their home. 

He walked into his current place of residence to see that dinner was currently being made, and he ran up the stairs to put his backpack away before heading down to help. By now, all the other boys knew that he wasn't comfortable around the stove, so he was handed the task of chopping vegetables. That was how the freedom home worked: they all worked together, even though they didn't want to. Most of them, like Jet, had either recently aged out of the foster system or were about to. Zuko was the only one who was never in the system to begin with, the luckiest out of all of them, Jet had said. Zuko had it good. He couldn't complain. 

He couldn't complain, or say anything, when Jet decided to open up during dinner, to tell everyone how his parents had died in a horrible house fire, and that some people were _so lucky_ that their parents were still alive, which he said pointedly while looking at Zuko. Piandao reminded Jet gently that not everyone could safely live with their parents, and after that, dinner was quiet. 

Jet knew what he was doing, later that night when he decided to tell Zuko about how he had turned to drinking while living on the streets, and how sometimes he just wanted to fucking die, and Zuko almost opened his mouth to say he understood, understood what it's like to want to just be dead, but his open mouth was quickly filled with Jet's lips before he could. 

* * *

Zuko knew he shouldn't, but he did anyways. Knowing he had a little while before Jet got out of the shower, he downloaded Instagram onto his phone. He glanced at the door intermittently while it downloaded. He had made a backup account years ago, one that his father couldn't trace. He hadn't used his regular one in over a year, but his father had probably made posts for him, if he still wanted to keep up appearances. He tapped the icon as soon as the downloading symbol disappeared, logging in, his username and password muscle memory. 

He went to his followers list, knowing Aang would be there from back when they first met. He was right. He clicked on the profile, his eyes assaulted by the bright and colorful photos of picnics, concerts, and protest. He quickly scanned the younger boy's bio.

 _Aang, he/him, sophomore._ He clicked on Aang's following, hoping to find what he was looking for. Careful to not accidentally click on anyone's story, he typed in Sokka's name. 

Yes, he knew this was the first stage of developing a massive crush on someone, but to be honest, he was already there. Plus, he was curious. Sokka's profile came up after he typed in the first few letters, and Zuko carefully clicked on it, a sigh of relief leaving his body when the profile was public. 

_@BoomerangSokka8_

The profile picture was him on a beach, sunglasses on his head. He went to the bio, scanning it. 

_Sokka. He/Him, Senior @ Grayson Highschool._

Zuko scrolled down. His most recent post was a month ago, and to Zuko's relief, it was not Sokka holding a fish, which would have been a huge nope right then and there. Instead, it was a group photo of him with Toph, who was holding a frog, Suki, who was squatting behind Toph, her hands up in peace signs, and Sokka, who appeared to be saying something right as the photo was taken. The caption was " _saturday with the goons"._ Taking extra caution not to like, he continued to scroll through the post. One was him and Suki, his lips pressed to her temple, a football field behind them. Another was him by himself, holding a Siamese cat. The next one down was another of him and Suki, a mirror selfie, with his hands around her midsection. He continued to scroll until he got to about a year ago, and stopped. There was a picture of him and Katara with a man in between them, the caption was too long for Zuko to bother reading. The man looked like both of them, a sharp jawline and high cheekbones, his hair pulled back. He was wearing an army uniform, and Zuko suddenly recalled what Sokka had said earlier about his dad being in Afghanistan. 

He kept scrolling until he reached another post that stopped him. It was Sokka, and a girl with white hair that tumbled down around her. She had a soft smile and kind eyes, a sloping nose and rosy cheeks. She didn't look similar enough to Sokka to be related, but they had similar skin tones and nose shapes. The caption, however, made his heart feel heavy in his chest. 

_I wish you had more time. I'll look for you in the moon forever_. Zuko opened the comments, hoping this didn't mean what he thought it meant, but there were hundreds, all offering their condolences. 

So he had lost someone. In an attempt to gather more information on this mysterious girl, he held down the picture to see if she was tagged, but she wasn’t. Of course she wasn’t. She was dead. 

He wondered if that's why Sokka seemed so out of it that week when Suki had been sick, because he had lost someone to sickness before. He scrolled back up, stopping on another post. It seemed Sokka was the type to post frequently and never delete post. This one was Sokka with his arm slung around Aang. They were both shirtless, at the beach, and Zuko's eyes stayed on Sokka's body for a few seconds too long. He was slim, but fit and toned. He noticed the arm that he could see was stacked with bracelets. Sokka's hair was falling into his eyes from the little ponytail he kept it in. How long had he has that hairstyle?

He should stop scrolling. He closed Instagram and deleted the app. 

* * *

He shoved his phone into his bag when he heard footsteps. It was Jet, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead. He looked at Zuko, eyes narrow. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, and Zuko shrugged. 

"I dunno. Is there an open shower?" he asked, and Jet nodded. 

"Yeah. Go ahead." he pulled on a shirt. Zuko got up, taking his towel from the top of his dresser. He was about to leave when he heard the door shut. He looked over to it, and Jet was there, leaning against it. He didn't say anything, and as Zuko tried to push past him, the other boy grabbed his arm and yanked him forward, pressing a forceful, aggressive kiss to Zuko's lips.

And Zuko _froze_. Before Jet had gone to shower, he had been pretending Zuko didn't exist. He would scoff and roll his eyes whenever Zuko would try to say something, or he would just try to embarrass Zuko in front of the other boys. Apparently, he liked Zuko again, because he was kissing him. It felt wrong and empty, forced, like Jet was trying to buy his silence, keep Zuko wrapped around his pinkie finger.

The worst part was that it actually worked. Zuko pulled away, unsure what to say but breathing heavily. 

"Go shower." Jet said, pushing himself away from Zuko. "I don't wanna kiss you when your hair is greasy." he said it in a joking way, but Zuko still felt the sting of the words.

He grabbed his towel. 

As Zuko showered, he tried to figure out what just happened. Jet wasn't abusive, no. _Ozai_ was abusive. Ozai hit him, burned him, controlled him. Jet loved him. Jet was just as broken as he was, that's all. 

_How could someone who was also broken be abusive?_ He thought as the semi-cold water ran down his back. He shut his eyes, only for a brief second, just for a moment. He still wasn't safe here, no matter how many times Jet stroked his thigh with a firm hand and told him that _he was fine, babe._ Jet would know. Jet had been in so many group homes and with so many foster parents that he _must_ know what he was talking about. And from what he had said, Zuko should be grateful. This was one of the better ones.

Jet was on Zuko's bed when he came in, and Zuko didn't bother getting dressed. 

* * *

Last night, Zuko had asked Jet to not give him any hickies above his shoulder, and thankfully, Jet agreed. He and Sokka had their presentation today, which Zuko had no problem with, since he had been coached in public speaking since he was a child. Public speaking, French, piano, fencing, math, and science. He had gone to private school up to a month ago. He had kept up the "perfect son" image until he was fifteen. Then it had all gone downhill. 

It had never gone downhill for Azula, he thought as he got off the bus. She was perfect in their father's eyes. Even she wasn't safe, though, and Zuko knew that. He bumped into Aang on his way to class, and the younger teen looked tired, which wasn't unusual for the morning- but it was rather abnormal for Aang. 

"Did you get enough sleep?" Zuko asked, and Aang didn't seem to hear him at first. Then his head snapped up and he blinked. 

"Me? Yeah. Of course. Why?" his words jumbled out of his mouth quickly, and Zuko got the feeling that Aang wasn't going to actually admit that he clearly hadn't slept well. 

They went their separate ways, and Zuko found himself checking his hair in the reflection of his turned-off phone on the way to class, which was so dumb, because Sokka wasn't about to notice how he looked, or even notice him in that way at all. He put his phone away. 

He didn't want to be the first one inside the class, so he waited outside the door until someone else went in. Ms. Zeng smiled warmly at him as he took his seat.

If he thought Aang was out of it, then Sokka was roughly five times worse. Zuko noticed that the other boy was picking at his fingers more than usual as he took his seat. 

"I'm really bad at presenting. My hands are shaking, see?" Sokka said, holding his hand out for Zuko to see. It was, indeed, trembling. Zuko sighed deeply, then leaned in to whisper to Sokka. 

"Do you need to-" he started, but Sokka shook his head vigorously. 

"Nope. No. I'm fine. I'm cutting back now." He ran a hand through wolf tail, his fingers getting stuck where the hair was gathered together in an elastic. Judging by the several loose pieces framing his face, it wasn't the first time. Sokka switched to biting his nails. 

Zuko didn't know how to comfort his friend besides awkwardly patting his shoulder (Sokka's whole _body_ was trembling, Zuko realized). Sokka, to his surprise, leaned into Zuko's touch, and he could feel Sokka's deep breathing. 

"Are you gonna be okay for our presentation?" he asked, and Sokka nodded. 

Then, Sokka did something that made Zuko's heart _flutter_ :

He grabbed Zuko's hand and squeezed it under the table. Sokka's hand was warm and shaky, a band-aid breaking the smoothness of his skin below his knuckles. Without meaning to, Zuko began to rub comforting circles on the back of Sokka's hand. 

And it was nice. It was so nice. It felt _right_. He gave it another squeeze, feeling warm inside. Sokka squeezed back twice in quick succession. 

Eventually, Sokka let go first when Suki and Haru started their presentation. Neither Sokka or Zuko acknowledged what just happened. They didn't need to. 

Suki and Haru sat back down, which meant that there was two groups left until they went. Sokka was bouncing his leg rapidly, back to biting his nails. 

Then the second group finished.

Sokka's breathing was loud enough for Zuko to hear.

The third group sat down, and Zuko nudged Sokka gently with his elbow. The other boy flinched, looking at Zuko. His lip was red from being chewed on, and he stood shakily. They walked up to the front together as Ms. Zeng pulled up their presentation. He gave Sokka a thumbs up and raised his eyebrow, silently asking if he was okay, and Sokka gave him a quick nod, clearing his throat. 

"Alright, so we decided to build a ramp, which we made using household materials" Zuko said, holding up the ramp "Which was successful, and our data is shown in this chart..." He looked over at Sokka. This was his slide. Sokka took a breath, then pointed to the chart. He started off good, describing the data clearly, but then, as he got halfway through the chart, his voice began to shake. 

Zuko caught Sokka's eyes, and he _knew._ Sokka's eyes were wide, panicked, begging for Zuko to take over. Zuko cleared his throat, and took off where Sokka had left off, but they weren't out of the woods. He had a feeling as soon as they were done, Sokka would probably bolt straight out of the classroom, probably to smoke, or maybe just to breathe, but either way, Zuko intended to follow Sokka. 

His prediction had been right. As soon as they finished presenting, Sokka headed straight for the door. Zuko glanced at the teacher, who gave him a nod as if to say _go ahead_ , and without a second glance, he followed Sokka.

He wasn't hard to find, sitting on the ground outside the school building. Zuko crouched next to him. 

"Sokka?" he said gently, and Sokka looked up at him, his chest heaving. His eyes were red. Shit. Zuko knew what that felt like all too well. "Hey, can you do something for me?" he asked, feeling entirely out of his depth. He was usually on the other side of this. Sokka nodded. 

"This hasn't happened it a while." he said quietly, and Zuko nodded in complete understanding. 

"Five things you can see?" he prompted gently, and Sokka took a long, shaky breath, coughing into his elbow with the inhale. 

"Grass. Sky. Road. Building. You." he responded with enough speed that Zuko knew that this wasn't the first time Sokka had done this specific grounding technique. 

"Good. Four things you feel?" he prompted again, changing from squatting to sitting with his legs folded underneath him. Sokka grabbed a handful of grass. 

"Grass, again. Um... shirt" he paused, pulling at his collar. He looked at Zuko, his eyes still wide. He rubbed at his neck aggressively, then his hand switched on the band-aid on his hand. "Band-aid. Skin." he said, exhaling with a quiet cough. 

"Three things you hear." Zuko said, and Sokka was picking at the band-aid on his hand, which wasn't too worrying. Better the band-aid then his skin. 

"You, traffic, wind." he said, and Zuko noted that his voice was a little less shaky. 

"Two things you can smell?" Zuko said, feeling easy in the rhythm that they had created. Sokka took a less-shaky breath. 

"Deodorant. Exhaust." he said, and Zuko noted that his chest had a more steady rhythm of rising and falling. There was no easy fix-all for a panic attack, but at least Zuko knew how to help. 

"Almost done. One thing you can taste." he said, and Sokka licked his lips before he spoke. 

"Chapstick." he said, then, to Zuko's surprise, Sokka reached out and grabbed his hand. He squeezed it twice in quick succession. 

"You okay?" Zuko asked, and Sokka ran his other hand over his face. 

"Yeah. Thank you, and i'm sorry I ruined our presentation." He said, and Zuko immediately shook his head. 

"You didn't, Sokka. You did really good. We all have shit, you know?" he said, and yeah, he was aware he could have worded it better, but it made Sokka smile. 

"Yeah. We all do have shit."

Ms. Zeng pulled Sokka aside at the end of class, but he wasn't in trouble, as far as Zuko could tell. The physics teacher just seemed more concerned for her student

* * *

It was crazy, but Zuko was starting to think that Sokka liked him, too. Or maybe he was just like this with everyone, maybe he held all his friend's hands under the desk and stared into all their eyes with his own deep brownish-blue ones. Maybe Sokka was just rebounding from Suki. It didn't make sense for Sokka to even want to be his _friend._

How could he know, he had never really had a lot of friends before. 

As lunch approached, Zuko was almost exited. Exited to sit next to Sokka and talk to him, to be right next to him and feel okay for a little while. It was too soon, though. It would be selfish to drag Sokka, or _anyone_ , into his life. Especially with Jet, where things were going approximately the same speed and direction as a drunk driver on the back roads, but for some reason, Zuko wanted to stay in that car a little longer. It wouldn't hurt. And he had nowhere else to go. 

He didn't make it to lunch. It was the perfect storm, really. He had gone outside to take a shortcut to the cafeteria, the cold late November air stinging his scar. He walked past a girl in deep red Doc Marten boots, which wasn't any reason to be on edge. The scar on his chest twinged in memory, fully healed but still so, so fresh. 

_The argument had moved into the kitchen since it had started, with Zuko trying to get Azula as far away from their father as possible. He knew he wasn't being fair to her, she was off her medication, she wasn't in the right state of mind, and their father wasn't helping by whispering in her ear._

_Good thing Zuko stopped listening a long time ago._

_"Azula! Come on, let's just go to uncles, okay? You don't have to do this, okay?" he said, trying desperately to keep his composure. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs and he reached for his car keys on the kitchen island, then froze when his gaze landed on his sister on the other side of the granite._

_Her eyeliner was smudged down her face, running from her tears. Her eyes darted from him to the doorway as the footsteps got louder. They had seconds left before things got irreversibly worse._

_He didn't have to wait that long for something horrible to happen. It happened in a split second, too fast for him to see._

_He was on the floor with a kitchen knife in his chest. Azula was gone. His father was here._

"Zuko?" a gentle voice asked, and Zuko snapped out of the foggy but all-too-clear memory. Aang was standing in front of him, his wide dark brown eyes full of worry. "Hey, you should sit down. You don't look so good." he said, and Zuko was in no position to argue, his neck feeling hot and his chest twisting. He was on a bench now. 

"Sorry. I'm fine. Just..." he paused, unsure whether he could trust Aang with this. Then again, out of everyone in this school, Aang was the only one who already knew enough of his fucked up past to understand. He took a deep breath, the skin on his chest tightening. "Just got a little lost in a memory. From before I left." he said, and Aang nodded, his eyes sad. Without thinking, he pulled down the collar of his shirt to show the tip of the dark scar. "Azula stabbed me. With a kitchen knife. I got lucky, I guess. she missed everything important." the words seemed to slip out, and Aang's eyes went wide. 

"Jesus _fucking Christ, Zuko."_ he breathed out, and Zuko shrugged. 

"It's fine, I guess. I don't want to talk about it anymore." he said, and thankfully, Aang nodded in understanding. 

"It's not at all the same, but, um, the reason I left my old foster home?" he said, and Zuko made sure to show he was listening. Aang rarely talked about these things. "It's- well it's because I sometimes, I mean I used to, not that much anymore, but I used to not be able to control... myself. When I got angry. And after one time," he laughed, but it sounded a little forced. "I- well it doesn't matter, but I lost it one too many times, and after that, I got put in a foster home with two pacifist gay monks" he snorted, and Zuko couldn't help but smile a little. 

"Seems like it worked." he said, then took a breath. "You go ahead inside, I just need some more air." He said, and Aang raised and eyebrow, but said nothing, standing up from the bench, walking with a bounce in his step. 

Finally, Zuko took a moment to look around, taking in the parking lot and fields of the campus.

Then he froze. Across the empty parking lot but close enough to see, there was black Mercedes. He didn't need to read the license plate to know. His stomach lurched. 

He watched, not moving a muscle like that would help. It didn't. 

A pair of red Doc Marten boots stepped out of the passenger side. 

Zuko almost threw up. 

On the drivers side, someone tall got out, and Zuko knew as soon as he saw the pointed long black nails and loose sleeve dangle out of the window:

Azula had brought Mai. 

He pulled his phone out, sending a text to Aang. He didn't want anyone to worry. 

_Hey sorry forgot I have to meet with my counselor during lunch._

He hit send, trying to ignore how he could feel his heart beating in his fingertips. He stood up and walked to the car, and he knew this time, it was useless fighting. Azula had found his school. 

He had to go home now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheh  
> sorry. 
> 
> also, on a more serious note, zuko is incorrect in saying he is not in an abusive relationship, and they don't have to physically harm you for it to be abuse  
> people like jet do exist, in fact the kissing right next to the door thing? happened to me babes. remember that no one should touch your body if you don't want them too, and i'm sorry if you've been through something similar
> 
> anyways, enough psas  
> sorry about this chapter being a wee bit shorter, i have a macbeth essay due monday and also i wanted to be dramatic and end on a cliffhanger 
> 
> come threaten me in the comments if you feel so inclined


	6. I will try, try, try to breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentioned/implied self harm, mentioned smoking, implied child abuse, vomiting (not super descriptive but it's there) 
> 
> also, this chapter is going to be a slightly different format as it's covering a longer stretch of time, with multiple shorter scenes instead of like a few longer scenes just an fyi.

When Aang came to lunch and told them that Zuko had texted, saying he was at the counselor during that period, Sokka didn't worry. He felt drained, his entire body still tense. He hadn't had a panic attack in a long time, and the fact that it happened during school was just the cherry on top. Plus, the noticeable absence of nicotine in his body was making him irritable and nauseous. He felt an elbow nudge him on his right and glanced over. Katara was holding a sleeve of saltines, a quiet, knowing concern in her eyes. 

"I know your stomach hurts, but you have to get a little something in there," she said, quiet enough for only them to hear. He took the sleeve of crackers and opened it, nibbling on one. 

He had decided to quit cold turkey on Tuesday afternoon when he realized that he would be picking up his dad from the airport in approximately seven days, and he wouldn't be able to handle the look of disappointment on his dad's face when he found out. 

His dad had smoked briefly off and on throughout Sokka's childhood but had always warned Sokka to never do it. Sokka obviously didn't listen. He wasn't sure if his dad still smoked, but either way, he didn't want him to see Sokka follow in those _particular_ footsteps. Once upon a time, he had wanted to join the army after high school, just like his dad, but those dreams stopped cold when his dad's best friend and sometimes boyfriend (they had never said anything, but it was pretty obvious) had come home a month into deployment with his arm blown off. Sokka didn't want his arm blown off, so he had changed his mind. 

He also didn't worry when he didn't see Zuko for the rest of the day, because he usually didn't anyways. He should have, though. 

The drive home from school was silent, Katara playing some game on her phone, and Sokka kept his eyes straight ahead on the road, never saying a word. 

He wanted nothing more than to curl up with a Netflix comedy special and a cigarette in his bedroom, but he had to go to work and he was _quitting_ , so that wasn't an option. He threw his backpack down on his floor, knowing he had twenty minutes to get to work, and quickly pulled on a long sleeve shirt to put underneath his itchy polo shirt both for warmth and to hide the fresh burn he had acquired this morning on purpose after he had smoked his last cigarette. He turned his phone on silent and headed straight back out the door, feeling an utter heaviness in his bones and a gross, turning feeling in his stomach. 

Unfortunately, everything at work was a jarring reminder of things he was trying to forget. It was fine at first, but then a young woman came up to his register in hospital scrubs and messy hair, which was normal because this particular grocery store was pretty close to the nearest hospital. Everything was fine and he _wasn't_ thinking of Yue. He let his eyes glaze over, staying in a half-present state between customers. His mind didn't wander, but rather seemed to stay in one place. It was probably the panic attack still lingering like the grease stain on his jeans. 

The next customer threw him off, he had to admit. It was a slightly older woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, with a cart full of completely normal items except for the box of pregnancy test thrown in the middle. As he scanned her items, he tried not to think back to Suki, and his guilt, and how he should have just worn a condom. He pushed the thoughts away. He was at work. 

Then there was a man buying a pack of razor refills and cigarettes, and Sokka felt his neck get hot. He took his break after that. 

* * *

It felt later than it was when he got home, with the sunset in the winter sky even though it wasn't past eight yet. He pulled off his clothes and went to shower, his head throbbing. He knew he was in full withdrawal now, with his stomach churning and his hands shaking. He knew it would only last a few days, but he was debating whether he should go to school tomorrow at all. 

As the semi-warm water ran down his back, he weighed the pros and cons. His mind wandered away from that, though, as the hot water stung against the scabbed-over burn on his wrist. He was quitting more than one thing right now, he decided. No more smoking, no more hurting himself. 

He shivered as he got out of the shower, wrapping his towel around his waist and quickly heading to his room. He dressed quickly, drawing in a sharp breath when his shirt rubbed against the open wounds. With a sigh, he realized that Katara would know what to do. 

He knocked on her door with shaky hands, and it swung open almost immediately. He stepped in and sat on her bed, taking deep breaths as she stared at him, waiting for him to speak. He didn't. 

"You okay?" she asked, shutting her door with her hand behind her. Sokka's breath hitched in his chest, and he barely knew where to start. He shook his head, and Katara's brows turned upwards in concern. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, sitting down in her desk chair. He did. He pushed his wet hair away from his forehead. 

"I had a panic attack today. I- me and Zuko were giving a presentation, and I _barely_ made it through, Katara," he said, his voice barely making it out of his chest. 

"What did you do?" Katara asked, keeping her voice at the same volume as his. He chuckled, because it was funny, really. 

"Almost nothing. I mean, I ran out. Zuko followed me, talked me through it." he muttered, and for some reason, he felt his cheeks get hot. Okay, he knew why, but _still._

"Zuko?" Katara echoed, and Sokka nodded. Her eyes shifted from him up to the ceiling, her lips pursed. "He helped?"

"Yeah. He did. He helped." he paused, the words on the tip of his tongue but heavier than all his hair soaking wet. Katara looked at him expectantly, and Sokka looked down. shuffling his feet. 

"You okay?" she asked, and Sokka nodded and left her room. He had almost told her, almost spilled that he had a huge, massive, stupid, and worthless crush on the boy with the amber-brown eyes and enough trauma to make his dead mom look like Disney channel. 

But he didn't. 

* * *

Zuko didn't come to school on Thursday or Friday. He had sent Sokka a _very_ brief text saying that he was sick and wouldn't be in school for a little while, which made Sokka worry immensely. That was how it had started with Yue, missing school a few days in a row, then for a week. Then Sokka was walking her home, except they didn't get far before he had to carry her. Then, he was looking at her grave. And she was gone. 

_"Sokka."_ Aang's voice pulled him out of the memories, but they stuck to him like syrup. "You okay?" he asked, and Sokka realized that he was at lunch with everyone. 

"Yup!" he said with forced brightness in his voice. He blinked, hard. "Just spaced out, sorry." he lied, feeling a cough form in his throat. He turned away, coughing into his elbow. When he turned back to the table, they were all quiet. "What?" he asked, looking back and forth between Aang, Katara, and Toph. 

"That sounded bad, dude," Toph said, and Sokka grimaced. The cough was nothing to be worried about, just a sign that his lungs were clearing, but he supposed it might be alarming if you didn't know that. 

"It does, but it's just my lungs clearing up. I'm fine, don't worry about it," he said, grabbing his water bottle and taking long sips. They all made vague noises of understanding, going back to their conversation. Aang turned to Sokka and started telling him about his latest vegan food. Or something. Sokka wasn't really listening, his mind still frozen on _Zuko_ and _sick_ and _Yue_. 

At least it was Friday. 

* * *

Zuko hadn't texted him in three days, sixteen hours and twenty-six minutes. And now Sokka was worried. He knew that it was very likely that Zuko's phone had broken, or maybe he just had a really bad bug and was sleeping it off. That didn't really make Sokka feel better. He tried to pay attention to the movie that he, Aang, and Katara were watching, but he couldn't. So when Katara went upstairs to get snacks, and Aang paused the movie, he decided to spill what was on his mind. 

"Aang, how much do you know about... Zuko's living situation?" he asked. He wasn't sure what Aang knew, but it could be more than he did. Aang shrugged. 

"He lives with his uncle, right?" he said, his face starting to twist in confusion. Sokka shook his head. 

"He doesn't. Not anymore. I drove him home after we did our project" he paused, and Aang shifted in his seat. "Aang, he lives in a shelter. He said it wasn't safe?" Sokka's voice cracked, and he forced a breath into his healing lungs. "And I- he-" he swallowed. "Aang, how bad is it? I mean, how much danger is he in?" he asked, and Aang's face hardened. 

"Shit." he breathed, and Sokka's stomach somersaulted. Did _nobody_ else know about this? Aang twisted his hands together. "I- When I met him, he didn't have the scar. That was three years ago. When I moved homes, we tried to keep in touch but at some point, he stopped answering my calls. I didn't see him again until a month ago when he came here. I know his dad is an awful piece of shit, that his mom _disappeared-"_

"Disappeared?" Sokka repeated, and Aang nodded. 

"Yeah. It's... sketchy. He left his dad's house and went to live with his uncle, or, at least, he used to." he said, shrugging as if to say _that's all I know._ Sokka chewed at his fingernail. 

"Okay. I mean, he's probably just sick, right? I mean, I shouldn't worry too much, right?" he asked, and Aang didn't answer right away. 

"Probably. I'm gonna go see if Katara needs any help with the snacks," he said, and Sokka became suddenly aware again of the movie on Aang's T.V. and the beanbag chair he was sitting on. Aang had asked Katara to come over for a movie night, and Sokka, ever the cockblock, had asked if he could come, too. 

When they both came back downstairs, they were both giggling, cheeks flushed, and Sokka felt something in his chest tighten because it was _so fucking easy for them._ For a second, Katara became him, and Aang became Zuko, and they were laughing and blushing over something only they found funny, and it was easy and so goddamn natural. 

Sokka blinked, and the imagined scenario was wiped away. He looked back towards the movie screen, hopefully, to turn off the stupid, yearning part of his brain that wanted to control his every waking thought. 

* * *

"You sure you got this? We could always ask Arnook-" Sokka shook his head, cutting his sister off. 

"Katara, it's fine. I can pick dad up," he said, grabbing his keys off the hook on his wall. His body, however, was telling him that it wasn't fine and that he was probably going to throw up out of nerves. But he was going to do this. He pulled on his coat and gave Katara and Gran-Gran both hugs before heading out the front door. 

Dad was coming home today. Sokka was _bringing_ his dad _home._ As he got into the driver's seat, the cold of the leather seeping through his sweatpants, he thought back to when his dad had left over a year ago. He had sat them all down, Sokka and Katara on the worn-down couch, Gran-Gran on her chair, facing the center of the room with a familiar, knowing look on her face. Their dad had sat in his armchair, the chair that only he ever sat it (even when he was gone), and told them that he was deployed again. It wasn't a surprise. He was in the Army, he was on active duty, and this was how it had been both him and Katara's whole lives. 

But each time he left, he came back a little wearier, a little more tired, and the worst part of it was that Sokka had no idea if it was just aging because he didn't even _see_ him enough to put a finger on what exactly was different. 

He entered the highway, apparently having enough muscle memory to get from his neighborhood to the main highway. It was about an hour round long trip, so he pulled up his playlist and let it run. 

According to everyone who knew her, Sokka was a carbon copy of his mother from the top of his scalp to the bottom of his head, just male. He wouldn't know. He didn't remember what she looked like, and when he tried to, all he saw was Katara or Gran-Gran. In his opinion, he looked like his dad, just lankier. What he did know for sure, though, was that he had gotten his dad's brain, and it was a running joke in the family that they had to fight over who used the brain. 

Sokka hoped, with a pang of rising guilt in his stomach, that he recognized his dad. Sure, they had video calls, but Sokka knew that it really wasn't the same. He realized that the feeling rising from his stomach was sick, not guilt (although they felt the same) and he pulled into the breakout lane just in time to empty his stomach. He really had to stop doing embarrassing shit right next to his truck. He wiped his mouth, taking a shaky breath. He was more nervous than he thought, apparently. 

He got back in his truck, feeling no better, yet also no worse. He rejoined traffic, ignoring his shaking hands on the steering wheel. His playlist continued, ignoring his panicked state (he wasn't sure how the Spotify playlist was supposed to know but hey, it could at least match his mood, but _no_ ). He drummed his fingers as he drove, trying to go through in his mind what his dad already knew, and what they would be catching up on. 

His dad was there for Yue, so he wouldn't have to relive that again. He didn't know that Sokka was bisexual, but that definitely wouldn't be a problem considering his dad was _also_ bi. Maybe they were the same person after all. Sokka didn't think he would tell his dad about the less fun things, or the things that he did because he was a fuck up like his _very_ recently stopped smoking habit or the fact that he literally got his girlfriend _pregnant_ , or that he maybe relapsed into self-harm, just a _little_ bit. Those weren't the airport-pickup type of conversations, especially with your father who has PTSD and probably doesn't want to hear about his sons rapidly spiraling life fresh off the airplane from Afghanistan. Okay, maybe Sokka's life wasn't necessarily spiraling, maybe a more accurate term would be a zigzag, or maybe a topographical map. 

His GPS interrupted The Jonas Brothers to tell him to take the next exit. He was getting closer now, and he glanced over at his arm to make sure there were no visible scars or scabs. There wasn't. 

He found himself doing the grounding technique that Zuko used in his head to ground himself. 

He could see the road, the sky, the steering wheel, his hands, and the car next to him. He felt the steering wheel under his hand, the leather of the seat, his sweatshirt on his arms, and his bracelets against his skin. Sokka heard his music playing, the truck's engine, and the sound of his own breathing. He smelled the air freshener and his almost untouched coffee in the cupholder. He tasted breath mints. 

Thank god for Zuko. He was only ten minutes away now, and although he no longer felt like diving out the window while his truck was driving, his chest still felt a little bit too much like a birdcage, his heart fluttering inside his ribs. He took a few deep breaths, causing him to cough a few times, but he got them in. He took a sip of his now cold hot coffee (why did he get hot? he always got iced coffee). He forcefully swallowed it down, and thankfully it didn't come back up. It was the least he could ask for. 

The first time Sokka had a panic attack, he was twelve years old, and his dad was the only one there. Sokka didn't remember it that well (he had read somewhere that some people responded to trauma by repressing memories, but he was just forgetful), but he remembered breaking down into shaking, whole-body sobs, and scratching at his skin. He supposed that's where it had all started, his self-destructive coping mechanisms, but his dad had been there, quietly and gently holding Sokka's hands in his own so that he wouldn't tear his skin off. 

After that, he started to realize that his dad had them too. He noticed the way sometimes his dad would lean especially close to Bato when someone's mother or wife died in a movie, the way his father, a man that was, to his twelve-year-old self, indestructible, would shake. 

The last time his father had come home, Sokka noticed he was different, a little bit more jumpy, more careful, and on more than one occasion, Sokka was woken up by his dad screaming in the middle of the night, but they all pretended that nothing had happened. Sokka didn't want him to go back, none of them did, but in the end, it wasn't his choice. 

This time, Sokka thought as he slowly pulled up to the pick-up area of the airport, he would make sure that his dad never went back again. He couldn't do this again, none of them could. 

In airports, time passed differently. Even just outside, Sokka could feel the shift in how it moved, the minutes on the clock passing way too fast but also painfully, awfully slow. It was for this reason that he had no idea how much time had actually passed when he saw his dad coming out of the revolving glass door. He was expecting him in uniform, but he had come home out of uniform before. Sokka didn't care, though, practically jumping out of the truck and running to greet his dad. When their gazes met, his dad dropped his bags and opened his arms just in time before Sokka practically ran into him, almost knocking his dad off his feet. He hadn't anticipated that he had passed his father in height, had hardly noticed when he was already tall, to begin with, but it didn't matter, his dad embracing him right back with a grunt when Sokka slammed into him. 

They pulled apart and Sokka felt an instant wave of relief when his dad's face looked _exactly_ how he remembered, spare a few gray hairs on his head. Without a word, Sokka grabbed his dad's bags. 

"It's good to have you home," he said, and it may have been the light, but there were tears in his dad's eyes. They got in the truck with the bags in the backseat, and Sokka started the drive back, which was long enough to do some catching up, but it was a bit hard to keep his eyes from filling with tears when his dad commented on how much he had grown up in the last year. 

"Well, I'm almost an adult, y'know" he replied with what could either be a laugh or half a sob. "I turn eighteen in two months," he said, and his dad looked at him with that regret in his eyes, the regret of missing so much of Sokka's life, so Sokka changed the subject. "How do you feel about my piercings?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows, and his dad laughed, the first genuine, not cry-laugh Sokka had heard since he picked him up. 

"I mean, you had some of them last time I saw you, but the nose is new. I like them, they suit you," he said, and Sokka couldn't help but smile at his father's approval. 

"Thanks," he said, and his dad cleared his throat. They had caught up on the small things, like school, work, how the flight was, and friends, but there was so much more to talk about, and Sokka knew they would spend hours talking tonight. 

"So, are you still with that girl, what was her name..." he trailed off, and Sokka knew that he wasn't going to remember it anytime soon. 

"Suki? Uh, no, we broke up almost a month ago," he said, hoping his dad didn't pry more. "It was- It was mutual, though. I'm not super upset about it, or anything," he said, trying to avoid any further questions. 

"That's too bad, she was a nice girl. But good for you, I'm sure it was a very mature decision you two had to make" he said, his voice full-on dad mode, and Sokka couldn't help but laugh. If only he knew how _mature_ the decision they had to make really was. 

"Yeah, it was for the best," he said, coughing as quietly as he could into his elbow. "So, how about you, dad? Get any lovely ladies or dashing gentlemen while over on the other side of the world?" he said with a laugh, and he could feel his father's silent laughter shaking the seat. 

"Y'know, there are plenty of fish in the sea, but it's a bit of a desert out there if you know what I mean," he said with a chuckle, and Sokka snorted. He missed dad jokes. 

"Um, by the way, I'm bisexual, too. Just thought I'd... mention it," he said, swallowing hard after he spoke. He looked over and his dad gave him a high-five, and Sokka grinned. 

"In all seriousness, thank you for telling me. I'm glad you felt comfortable," he said, and a comfortable silence settled into the air of the truck, and Sokka realized that they were almost home, having reached the edge of town. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his dad taking in the place they lived once again. 

"Almost home." Sokka coughed, and the silence was broken briefly before settling back into the air once again. 

* * *

If there was one thing that never got old, no matter how many times he saw it, it was watching his father reunite with his grandmother. Did it make his chest ache with longing for his mom, no matter how fuzzy her memory? Yeah, it did, but the way that his dad, a little over forty, held his own mother like she was going to disappear outweighed the jealousy he felt every time. 

After many hugs, tears, and stories from all parties, it was time for the welcome home dinner, made by Gran-Gran and Katara. There were fish and plenty of sides, but Sokka was most excited for the seal jerky that Gran-Gran's friend had sent her from the village back home. As they ate and talked, Sokka felt a weight he didn't know he was carrying lift off of his shoulders. He couldn't place it, but the dining room table felt warmer and fuller than it had in a long, long time. 

With stomachs full and hearts light in their chest, they all moved to the living room, and Dad's Chair was once again filled. Sokka's heart suddenly lost it's lightness, sinking to the bottom of his rib cage. 

Dad couldn't stay forever. 

As if on cue, the oldest man in the room cleared his throat to get the attention of the three others, who turned to look at him. 

"Before I head to bed," he started, and Sokka felt a pang of guilt for just now noticing how _exhausted_ his father looked. He continued "I wanted to talk to you- all of you." Katara sucked in a breath next to Sokka. "I'm not getting any younger, and I'm starting to feel it." he glanced over at Gran-Gran, who smiled knowingly. "So I've decided that this was the last one. I'm done. I'm retiring." he said, his hands clasped together, and the room held its breath while the information processed for everyone. 

Katara was the first one that it really hit, her face crumpling for a split second before she tackled dad with a hug. Then Sokka. Then Gran-Gran. 

"Thank you, dad," Katara whispered, and everyone melted all over again. As they all pulled away, Sokka glanced at the clock. It was 8:30, but it felt like any other time but that. He watched out of the corner of his eye as his dad pulled out his phone and read something, squinting at the screen due to his insistence that he did _not_ need reading glasses. He cleared his throat. 

"Mom, is it okay if Bato comes over tomorrow?" he said, audibly holding back a laugh. Gran-Gran smacked him playfully on the shoulder. 

"For goodness sake, Hakoda, you can do what you want! You're forty-three years old! I don't care, I'm going to bed!" she said, shaking her head and shuffling towards the stairs. As soon as she was out of earshot, the room burst into giggles. 

"Is Bato actually coming over, or were you just trying to annoy Gran-Gran?" Katara asked once the giggling stopped. 

"Both. I never miss a chance to annoy my mother, and I never miss a chance to see my best friend." on the words "best friend", his dad's voice sounded a little bit forced, like he wanted to say something else, but Sokka didn't push it tonight. 

* * *

The next morning Sokka woke up on his own time as if his body was finally letting him rest. Thanksgiving break was only four days, but he _desperately_ needed the rest. He was still feeling a little off, but he could feel the effects of withdrawal fading a bit more each day, even if as soon as he rolled over, he was hacking up a lung. 

When he caught his breath, he leaned back into his pillow and sighed, grabbing his phone from his nightstand. He didn't have any text, and he sat up with the realization that he hadn't seen or heard from Zuko in almost a _week_. He had been trying really, really hard to not think about it, to not ruin his dad's homecoming, but he couldn't shake the dread building inside his skull anymore. He got out of bed, simultaneously checking Instagram. Zuko definitely had an account, with his dad being so well known. Sokka had no idea if Zuko actually used it, but it was worth a shot. He needed to know Zuko was okay. 

He searched his name, selecting the first result that came up. It was definitely Zuko, but also very clearly run by someone else. There were a lot of posts, a lot of followers, and a few following. He went to look at the most recent post, his heart becoming a caged bird inside his ribs again as he scrolled down to the bottom, only to see that the last post was from over three months ago. 

He should have looked harder, he knew, but he was almost relieved that there wasn't anything recent, anything that would have shown that Zuko wasn't okay. He knew that didn't mean that Zuko _was_ okay, but he let himself foolishly think that it did. He headed downstairs, almost doing a double-take when he saw not only his father but Bato, as well, sitting on the couch. His dad was leaning up against Bato, who's arm was around him, and they were talking in low voices, not quite whispers, but Sokka couldn't hear them. Then his eyes did that trick again, where for a split second, he saw him and Zuko in their forties sitting on a couch together, talking about something only they would understand. He blinked and it was gone, and he shook off the image, going to sit opposite them in the chair. 

When they saw him, they scrambled to pull apart, and Sokka couldn't help but smile. 

"It's fine, dad. Continue as you were. I kinda figured it out already, you know." he said, pulling a throw blanket onto his lap. The two older men looked at him in mild surprise. 

"I told you he knew, Koda," Bato said, which earned him a teasing slap on the shoulder from the other man before they both settled back into each other. Sokka sighed contently. It really was so obvious when people were in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, sorry if this chapter was a bit all over the place but again, longer stretch of time.
> 
> also, this is somewhat irrelevant but if you've ever seen the picture of Kit Harrignton next to Hozier? that's what I picture the Bakoda height difference as and I will not take criticism
> 
> let me know how you're feeling about this fic in the comments and leave kudos if you haven't already! It makes my whole week when I get a nice long comment! or short comment!


	7. And always know I won't be back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right now, he just needed to be okay until tomorrow, or, technically, since the glowing red digital clock was telling him it was half-past-one in the morning, he would just need to be okay for the next twelve to sixteen hours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: child abuse mention, cocaine mention, the usual stuff

Every single one of Iroh's rules that had been set out on the dining room table for him a month ago. For the past week, his door had been locked every second he was in his room. It didn't matter, though, because his father was not Iroh, not even close to him in any way except for being brothers fully by blood. 

He had broken the second rule his first night at dinner, the room dark but cleaner than it should be. The wine was served at dinner because Ozai liked to pretend that his two children were fully grown adults, and although Zuko was eighteen, Azula was two years younger, and she drank it with no hesitation.

He supposed that it must be easier that way, pretending that they were fully grown, much easier to throw your son against a wall and burn his face with an iron when he was fifteen. 

Obviously, he had broken rule number three, considering he had been in contact, in the same house, for almost over one week. It was strange, how a month ago, seeing his father's name on a piece of paper had made his entire body want to switch off. Now, when he was directly back in the danger zone, he had gone right back into survival mode, right back into walking, talking, and acting the way he knew would keep him from getting hurt. Or really hurt, at least. 

This meant not saying anything at all when he was yelled at, not reacting even the slightest bit. Not asking about anything other than surface-level questions. Getting along with Azula, even if she stabbed him two months ago. It meant not reacting when he accidentally walked in on his father bent over his desk, lines of white powder below his father's nose. It meant that he held his breath, backed out of the room silently, and asked Azula about it later. It wasn't anything that he hadn't seen before, but that didn't make it any less jarring. 

He hadn't been to school in a week, which automatically broke rule number four, and on top of that, he was pretty sure he couldn't go back. He had shut off his phone a week ago, knowing that having it on would make everything so, so much worse. 

Zuko had broken rule number five far too quickly than he had wanted to. It scared him, how quick his survival mode switched into a rage, the dents on his wall proof of his pathetic little regression. At least he had used his foot this time. He had broken his hand once before, and the cast had looked really dumb. 

Ozai didn't give him a curfew. Ozai didn't care if Zuko lived or died, as long as he couldn't be held responsible for either. 

Tomorrow, he would sit in a room with his father with a lawyer while he was permanently, legally separated from the Hirata name. Apparently, dear old dad had only brought him back to send him away again, just to make Zuko's exit from the family happen under his own terms. It wasn't bad news, though. It would mean that Zuko would be completely free from his father. 

But it also meant that Zuko would be turned out onto the streets, with no money, no place to live, and nothing to call his own. Everything he owned had been bought on his father's credit card, all his money was Ozai's. He wouldn't be allowed to ever come back, ever see Azula again. But he would be safe, he tried to tell himself, but the survivability of it seemed so slim to him. He knew that Iroh would take him, his grandfather having pulled a similar stunt back when his uncle was around Zuko's age. 

Right now, he just needed to be okay until tomorrow, or, technically, since the glowing red digital clock was telling him it was half-past-one in the morning, he would just need to be okay for the next twelve to sixteen hours. 

* * *

Zuko was allowed to keep his phone, some of his clothes, his license, and a few other things he couldn't replace, along with a couple of hundred dollars he had stashed away. He left the Hirata Manor for the last time with a backpack and duffle bag, the cold wet ground below his feet, the gray sky above his head. He turned on his phone. 

17 notifications. 

He sat down on the bench at the bus stop. He didn't think he could go back to Boy's freedom home, not after leaving so abruptly. He could technically go back to uncle Iroh, but the idea filled him with guilt that was heavy in his gut. His uncle deserved better than to relieve the situation of his youth again, deserved better than to have to shoulder Zuko's burden. Uncle Iroh had been there at the hospital, every time. He was the first person Zuko would usually call.

But it didn't feel right. It felt... for lack of a better word, scary. The last time he was there, he had to run away, and he really didn't want to run away again. Uncle was too close, uncle was family. 

Zuko really didn't want to see family right now. 

He forced himself to look at the notifications on his phone. He started with Sokka. 

_Hey man hope u feel better._

_Hey are you still sick?_

_how are you feeling?_

There were several more, all in the same vein. And the most recent one made his heart flutter. 

_I miss you_

He had a few from Aang, generally asking if he was okay. He had several emails and phone calls. He didn't bother to check them, they would all be the same. He heard the bus approaching.

The bus driver accepted his cash that Zuko handed over in crumpled dollar bills, and Zuko found the seat farthest away from anyone, keeping his head down, his hands shoved in his coat pockets. He shoved his duffle bag under his seat. 

It was cold, being almost December, and his breath fogged up the glass of the window next to his head. He had no idea where he was going to stay, nobody that felt safe. He rode the bus until he got to the center of town. 

* * *

He ended up at a motel, which seemed like the best option at the time, but the couple in the room next to him were really going at it, and he was pretty sure the guy on the other side of him was cooking meth. 

He laid on top of the covers with the blanket he had taken from his bed back at Iroh's house and had kept it with him ever since. He couldn't sleep with all the noise, and he missed Jet (he didn't want to miss Jet, but he had no control over the fact that his body ached for the familiar aggressiveness, the repetitive pattern each night.) 

Jet wasn't someone he loved, really, and they both knew that. But he still missed him. He missed Jet in the way that you miss school in the summer, the way you miss winter when it's hot outside. He rubbed his neck absently, trying to get comfortable in the lumpy motel bed. He couldn't. 

He unlocked his phone and pulled up his messages to Sokka. He needed to say _something_ because he knew that Sokka was probably worrying, but he couldn't tell the truth. Not over text. He started typing out something, then deleted it. Then he tried again and deleted it again. He tried one more time. 

_sorry for not texting back. I'm okay just had a stomach bug._

Zuko hoped that it was good enough. He turned on the T.V to drown out the background noise. 

He would be okay eventually. He was almost okay now, sitting alone in his shitty motel room, one backpack, and one suitcase containing everything that belonged to him. He was so alone, more alone than he had been in a long time, and he was cold, and he was hungry, and his hair was greasy. 

Sokka texted back.

_that sucks let me know if you want soup or anything_

That text, for some reason, made tears build up behind his eyes. Because Sokka cared, he cared too much for someone like Zuko, who didn't deserve it. He shut off his phone. 

Since he got to the motel, time seemed to move slower, a certain stillness to the air that made his skin crawl. He realized, as the rooms next to him finally quieted, that the last time he had really felt like he was at home was when he was with Sokka. 

And he didn't know how to feel about that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am super sorry for how late and short, and shitty this chapter is- my mental health hasn't been super great and I had a hard time finding the motivation to write, plus, Zuko's chapters are already more difficult for me to write anyways, so sorry for the wait. I know its so much shorter than usual but id rather post a short chapter now than make you guys wait even longer
> 
> leave a comment! please!


	8. Let me come home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: discussion of past abortion, past self-harm

It was the first snow of that winter that undid Sokka. 

On the last day of thanksgiving break, four inches of snow covered the yard and driveway. He wouldn't let gran-gran or dad shovel it. He could handle a few inches of snow, and besides, he could use the exercise. 

But it had rained after the snow, and it made the fluffy white powder turn into a heavy, wet blanket on the driveway. But he shoveled it, and for a while, it was cathartic, each scoop of slushy snow becoming a weight he was holding onto.

Yue. Suki. Cigarettes. Zuko. Scars. 

But then the snow became heavier, and he was starting to feel like he could no longer lift the metaphorical and physical weight. But it was so fucking stupid because there were no metaphors in real life, it didn't work like that. So his socks were soaked and his sleeve was wet, his nose cold. He kept shoveling even as his shoulders ached, his body protesting for him to stop. He only had a little bit left, so he pushed, like he always did, to finish, the wet sloppy snow weighing down the plastic shovel more than it should. 

He made it back to the door and sat on the steps, feeling a sob building in his chest. He didn't know why. It was just _snow._ He was born in _Alaska. It was just snow._ The wetness of the brick stairs was seeping through his jeans and he couldn't even feel it. It was just snow, and he felt okay but every other part of his brain was saying he wasn't okay, and it was _just snow_. A sob broke through his throat, painful and dry, forcing him to gasp for air. He put his head in his hands, feeling his palms stick to his face with tears being the adhesive. _It was just fucking snow_. And Yue died in winter, he remembered, and they had to _wait_ to bury her because the ground had been frozen solid. Her casket had been closed. The broken piece of a pot from a plant long dead that he used to use as an ashtray caught his eye, and he started sobbing more heavily, his whole body shaking, maybe from the cold. He wanted to smoke. He wanted to open his skin again with something sharp, and holding back felt like he was handcuffed and then handed the key. He felt like he was choking, the sobs not allowing for air in between. 

"Sokka? Hey, whoah, whoah-" his father's voice made him jump, but the tears were still spilling out and he couldn't speak, but Hakoda didn't ask him to, just sat down next to him, putting an arm around Sokka like he was small again, squeezing his shoulder. He helped Sokka catch his breath, and then, wordlessly helped him up, leading him inside with words of warmth and promises of comfort, and Sokka was crying too hard to say anything. 

Hakoda had never been the type of parent to ask what was wrong while Sokka or Katara was in tears. Instead, he held them close, wiping their faces and kissing the top of their heads. Then, when they could breathe without choking, he would let them explain when they were ready. 

His strategy hadn't changed, and he held Sokka, damp clothes and all, on the living room couch, occasionally giving him tissues to blow his nose or wipe his eyes in between his heaving sobs. 

Sokka didn't know how much time had passed, and the worst part was he _knew_ there was so much more built up inside of him and it just couldn't get out, no matter how much his body shook with sobs, leaving him gasping for air, everything was _stuck_. 

At some point, his father handed him a glass of water, which he took, his throat sore, and swallowed a few sips. The first words out of his mouth were raspy and at a pitch that wasn't his. 

"I'm sorry" he croaked, sniffling. He felt his fathers' hand brushing back the loose pieces of hair that had fallen out of his wolf tail, his eyes showing an attempt to be comforting, but the concern was showing right through. 

"You don't need to apologize," he spoke softer than usual, barely above a whisper. "You should go change into some dry clothes, okay? Then we can talk in your room if you want?" he offered, and Sokka nodded, slowly pushing himself off the couch and numbly walking up to his bedroom, his legs feeling tired for no reason at all. 

He shut his bedroom door, leaning against it for a moment as his breath settled into his chest. He didn't mean to, but he overheard a conversation from downstairs, his father and grandmother speaking in hushed Inuktitut. 

_"I don't know what's wrong, ma, I've been home for a week. Did something happen?"_ his father's voice was low and worried. 

_"I could tell something was bothering him... but he hasn't said anything. Not healthy to bottle up like that, you know."_ Gran-Gran replied. Sokka stepped away from the door and went to put on warm clothes, peeling his wet jeans off his legs and putting on sweats and a hoodie. He sat on his bed, and out of habit reached for his nightstand, but stopped.

He stayed still as slow footsteps sounded up the stairs, stood up when there was a gentle knock on the door. 

He let his dad in. 

* * *

"Do you wanna tell me what's going on?" Hakoda broke the silence that had settled over the room. Sokka cleared his throat. 

"I- I can't- I don't know where to start" he whispered, his vocal cords not wanting to participate in this conversation. 

"Is there a beginning?" Hakoda prompted, and Sokka felt his chest fill with lead. There was a beginning. He had to do this. 

"Yeah," he took a breath, looking up at his father then back down to the floor. "Can you promise not to get mad?" he asked, his voice a little bit louder but not any stronger. 

"Of course." 

"I started smoking a year ago, and um," he bit his lip, ripping a piece of dead skin off with his teeth. "I thought it could replace, uh," he looked down at his arm "cutting. And it's obviously worse for me, but I liked it. And that went on for a while, and I quit about a week ago," he said, then glanced up at his dad, who let out a breath. 

"I'm just gonna let you talk, okay?" he said, and Sokka nodded. 

"Okay. Okay, um, about a month ago-" his voice cracked and he looked back away. This one was going to be harder, but he couldn't hold it in, not if he wanted the heavy feeling to go away. "About a month ago-" he inhaled, letting the air fill his lungs. "A little over a month ago, I could kind of tell that I and Suki were drifting apart, y'know?" he forced a chuckle, but it sounded more like a cough. "And it was just one of those things, where it didn't hurt, really. It was natural. And I knew we were going to break things off, and she did too, and I think we were both waiting for the right moment," he glanced back at his dad, who was still listening intently. "But, um, then something happened, and um-" he felt another sob forming in his throat and he put his hand over his mouth.

"Take your time." Hakoda urged softly, and Sokka swallowed, knowing he had to face this. He forced in a breath. 

"She wasn't at school, said she was staying home sick and then she asked me to come over after school and then she said she was- she was late." He paused for a second, just in time for him to hear the sharp breath his father drew in. He had a feeling that this wasn't going to go over well. 

"So, um, we got a test. And-" he looked at the floor even harder. He knew what he was going to say next was obvious, that maybe it didn't even need to be spoken, but he said it anyway. "It was positive." his voice came out raspy, and he forced himself to make eye contact with his father, who was frowning. Sokka felt his stomach shrink. 

"What did you do?" he asked, surprisingly calm, yet a hint of warning behind his words, a warning of _Sokka if you left your pregnant girlfriend you will be whooped into outer space if you're a deadbeat so help me spirits I will make sure you fix this fuck up._

"We- she didn't want to keep it. Or go through with the pregnancy." he looked away. He knew how his father felt about most things, but abortion was not one of them. "So, that weekend she got an abortion. I paid for it." he paused to allow his father to speak, but he didn't. "After that we just- we couldn't. Neither of us wanted to stay together, so we decided to break things off. And she's okay. And we're both okay with the decision we made, because _holy shit_ , I cannot be a father." he breathed. "But it's just been weighing on me, this mistake, this colossal screw-up," he said, meeting his father's eyes once again. Hakoda looked conflicted, then, without warning, he wrapped Sokka in a tight hug, and Sokka _melted_ because back a month ago, all he wanted was his dad there to tell him what to do, hug him and tell him he did the right thing. 

"You two did the right thing for you, Sokka. I'm just sorry I wasn't there for you, I can't imagine how scary that was for the two of you." He paused, and Sokka knew from the way he tilted his head that there was a slight lecture coming. "Although, I do recall giving you the safe sex talk-" Sokka felt his cheeks burn and he put his head in his hands. 

"She was on the pill, but she was taking another thing that canceled it out," he mumbled through his fingers. He was glad he wasn't in trouble, but holy fuck was it embarrassing. 

"Oh, wow. Okay. I just wanted to make sure that..." he trailed off, licking his lips. "Was she okay afterward? I mean, I know sometimes the pill they give you can be pretty rough," he said nonchalantly, and Sokka gave his dad a questioning look, to which his dad just shrugged. "Not my story to tell. So was she doing okay?"

"Actually, she was, um, too far along for the pill." he swallowed hard, feeling his eyes tear up again. Why was this so hard? He had done the hard part already. "She was ten weeks, so they did it the other way. I think. So... yeah." he said, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"Sokka, look at me." Hakoda's voice was firm but kind, not a single hint of anger behind it. Sokka looked at him, eyes meeting eyes. "I am so proud of you for the _incredibly_ mature choices you have had to make, and I need you to know that you made the right choice, okay? I'm proud of you." At the words _I'm proud of you_ , Sokka felt a sob building in his chest again, and he buried his head in his dad's shoulder. 

"Thank you," he whispered, his throat trying to choke out the sound. 

"I love you, Sokka. No matter what." Hakoda said firmly, and Sokka could do nothing to stop the sobs that came from deep in his stomach from coming out of his mouth. 

"I-I love you t-too, dad" he managed to rasp out. 

* * *

Sokka ate dinner in his room that night, not willing to face the rest of the house just yet. Katara brought him his dish, a slight worried twist to her expression, but said nothing to him. 

That night, for the first time in a long time, he fell asleep when his head hit the pillow. He had a dream, but if you asked him to remember what it was, Sokka would have no idea. 

He woke up feeling well-rested, his eyes slowly opening to the sun peeking through his window. 

Wait. 

He sat bolt upright at looked at his clock. 

_9:13 A.M._

_Shit_ , he was _very_ late for the first day back from break. He stumbled out of bed, running down the hall and the stairs. 

"Dad!" he called, wondering why nobody woke him up. He slid into the kitchen, singularly focused on just grabbing a banana and leaving, but he stopped when he saw his father sitting calmly at the kitchen counter. "Why didn't you wake me? Do you know how late I am?" he practically yelled, running a hand through his hair, his fingers snagging on a tangle. 

"I called you in sick today. I figured you might want the day to regroup?" he said, and Sokka finally took a deep breath. Now that he stopped for a second, he realized that the idea of going to school today made him queasy. 

"Good call." he sighed, sitting next to his father at the counter. Hakoda rubbed his shoulder in circles. 

"How you doing?" he asked softly, and Sokka leaned his head on his hands. 

"I'm..." he bit his lip. "I'm a little better? I guess? I don't really know how I feel, really, but there's less... on me?" he sighed, and Hakoda nodded. 

"I know... I didn't want to bring it up before, but I feel like I really need to, Sokka," he said, and Sokka looked up at him, his neck feeling hot. 

"What?" he croaked, not breaking eye contact. 

"Are you safe?" he asked, and suddenly Sokka was back in the counseling office in middle school, his father beside him as the counselor explained that other students had reported seeing cuts on his arms. He froze. 

"I-" his voice got stuck. He had been burning himself with the ends of his cigarettes before he had quit. Every time he saw something sharp. "I'm not sure. I- I haven't been... doing anything. I mean I was putting my cigarettes out on myself but it was only a few times, and it's been harder to stay clean, but I haven't cut." the words seemed to choke him, and he looked away. 

"Okay." Hakoda sighed. "Okay. How about we go back to some of the old strategies, what do you think?" he said gently, and Sokka nodded. His father stood up from his stool and went over to one of the drawers and pulled out a rubber band. Wordlessly, he handed it to Sokka, who took it and slipped it on his wrist. "And if you feel like you're going to hurt yourself-"

"I'll come to you." Sokka finished, and Hakoda looked satisfied if not a little bit worried still. Sokka looked around, then back at his father. 

"Are you disappointed in me?" he asked, surprising himself by his own question. Hakoda's eyebrows shot up in surprise, then furrowed back down. 

"Sokka, why on earth would I be disappointed in you? Because you need help? There's nothing wrong with that, okay?" he said, his voice breaking a bit. He pulled Sokka into his chest, and Sokka wrapped his arms around his father. 

"Okay," he whispered, feeling the hug tighten. He was going to be okay, he told himself, repeating it like a mantra. He was going to be okay. 

* * *

This whole time, Sokka hadn't even thought about Zuko. He knew, after being reassured by the other boy several times, that there was no way he could have known. But he still felt bad. 

So, considering Zuko hadn't crossed his mind in over twenty-four hours, it was a little bit surprising when he called out of the blue that night. 

Sokka picked up on the second ring. 

"Zuko?" he asked, doing absolutely nothing to hide the utter joy in his voice. Then there was a choking sob from the other end of the line, and Sokka's joy quickly faded. 

"Hey, Sokka. Could- Could you come pick me up? Please?" he asked, his voice holding a certain fragility that made the hair on Sokka's arms stand on end. 

"Of course. At the home?" he asked, already reaching for a jacket from his closet. It was late, he knew, but something told him that he had to do this. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder while he put his jacket on. 

"No, actually. It's a long story, but I'm at the motel on baker street?" Zuko's voice rose in pitch on the last syllable while Sokka jammed his feet into slippers. Why was Zuko there?

"The Mountain Motel?" he asked, repeating the name of the only motel he knew in town. 

"Yeah. Um, just... pick me up from here and I'll explain, I promise," he said, his voice breaking up with the loss of connection. Sokka grabbed his keys. 

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, you know," he said, going down the stairs two at a time. His dad shot him a weird look from the living room chair, and Sokka held up his hand and mouthed _one second._

"Okay. Thank you, Sokka." Zuko muttered, and now that Sokka wasn't moving around, he could hear the sound of Zuko packing things into a bag in the background. 

"I'll see you soon, okay? And then we talk all about this," he said, his voice taking on a softness that he wasn't used to. 

"Okay. See you soon." Zuko echoed with a similar softness. Sokka hung up. He turned to his dad.

"I know it's really late, but one of my friends, um, Zuko, well actually he's a little more than a friend? I think? I'm not sure, the lines have kinda blurred but I really like him, anyways he just called me and he asked me to pick him up and he sounded really scared and I just- I need to go pick him up-" Hakoda held up a hand to stop Sokka, a slight twinkle in his eyes. 

"It's okay. Just go. Let me know if he needs a place to stay, and I'll get the couch ready, okay?" he said, something knowing and practiced behind his voice, and Sokka nodded. 

"Thank you!" he said as he ran out the door. He climbed into his truck and started it, pulling out of the driveway a little recklessly. He knew where the motel was, and he went in that direction, keeping his phone within reach if Zuko called again. 

The roads were almost empty, so he got there in less than ten minutes, pulling into a parking spot close to the entrance. He put the truck in park and texted Zuko saying that he was here. 

Within a minute, Zuko appeared, his backpack slung over one shoulder, a small duffel bag in his other hand. Sokka stepped out of the car, jogging over to him. He expected Zuko to maybe smile, say hello, then follow Sokka back to his truck. 

He didn't expect Zuko to drop all his bags as soon as Sokka was within reach and throw his arms around Sokka. He embraced him in return, and he felt Zuko's heartbeat through his winter jacket. 

"Zuko?" he whispered his mouth right by the other boy's ear. Zuko pulled away just enough to look at Sokka. 

"I-" he suddenly pulled all the way back. "I'm sorry. It's been a long week," he said, and Sokka wanted to hold him again. 

"It's okay. Let me get your stuff." he offered, and Zuko didn't protest as Sokka carried his backpack and duffle bag back to the truck. 

There was something unspoken and delicate between them as Sokka started the truck back up again. He had a feeling Zuko had nowhere to go at the moment, even though he had no idea why. 

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" he asked as he pulled out of the parking spot. He saw Zuko fidget in his seat. 

"Not exactly. Again, it's-" 

"A long story. That's okay. How about you come home with me?" he said as the truck became straight in the parking lot. Zuko's eyes met his, and they were tired but suddenly full of light. 

"You sure?" he asked, and Sokka nodded. 

"Of course I'm sure," he said, turning onto the road. He let his hand rest in the center console. 

Zuko took it in his, intertwining their fingers. 

"Thank you," Zuko whispered, and Sokka felt his body warm from within. 

"Any time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, I'm glad I got this chapter out on time for once. My mental health has been better and also this one was so satisfying to write (it's all coming together now my dudes)
> 
> let me know what you thought in the comments and have a wonderful two weeks until I see y'all again!


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